SONGS    FOR    THE    SORROWING. 


SONGS 

FOR    THE    SORROWING 

BY     H.    N. 

WITH     A3*     INTRODUCTION, 
BY  WM.  R.  WILLIAMS,  D.D. 


«  Be  like  the  bird,  that  halting  in  her  flight 
Awhile,  on  boughs  too  slight, 
Feels  them  give  way  beueath  her,  and  yet  sings,— 
Knowing  that  she  hath  wings." 

VICTOR  Htrao. 


NEW    YORK: 

PHINNEY,  BLAKEMAN    &   MASON, 
BUFFALO:  BREED,  BUTLEB,  ±  oo. 

1861. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  (he  ytar  1SCO,  by 

PIJINNKY,  ULAKEMAN  &  MASON, 
In  (he  Clerk's  Office  for  the   Southern  District  of  New  York. 


SMITH   & 

STER 


. 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE  present  volume  of  poems  is  the  fragmen 
tary  memorial  of  one  gifted  and  accomplished, 
but  taken  from  her  friends  and  from  a  widowed 
mother,  by  what,  to  the  friends  and  kindred  so 
bereaved  may  have  seemed  an  untimely  death. 
She  was  the  only  child  of  the  late  Stephen  Griggs, 
Esq.  The  father,  himself  a  man  of  genial  temper, 
refined  tastes,  and  literary  culture,  bestowed  his 
best  endeavors  on  the  education  of  a  daughter 
who  repaid  parental  affection  with  the  most  at 
tached,  filial  devotion.  A  child  of  early  promise, 
her  attainments  were  large  and  varied.  Above  all 
either  parent  felt  the  need  of  having  the  adorn 
ments  and  graces  of  earthly  culture  sustained  by, 
and  grafted  upon,  the  great  truths  and  controlling 
principles  of  Christ's  blessed  gospel.  At  a  very 
early  age  she  gave  the  evidence  of  true  piety,  and 
when  between  fourteen  and  fifteen  she  became  a 
1* 


626137 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

professed  disciple  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  During  a 
summer  excursion,  spent  in  part  on  the  sea  shore 
of  his  own  native  Massachusetts,  Mr.  Griggs  took 
boat  for  a  days'  fishing.  Although  some  of  the 
hands  were  experienced  seamen,  and  in  the  morn 
ing  there  seemed  little  prospect  of  aught  else  than 
a  day  of  fine  weather,  a  storm  came  on:  and  none 
returned  alive.  The  boat  drifted  ashore  over 
turned,  and  after  some  few  hours'  interval,  the 
corpse  of  Mr.  Griggs,  wearing  an  expression  of  the 
most  peaceful  repose,  and  bearing  little  mark  of 
the  drifting  and  buffeting  to  which  the  waves  had 
subjected  it,  was  also  cast  ashore  upon  another 
portion  of  the  coast.  The  day  of  the  excursion 
was  by  a  melancholy  coincidence  the  anniversary 
of  his  wife's  birth.  The  feelings  of  the  wife  and 
child  thus  sorely  and  '  suddenly  left  alone  were 
those  of  overwhelming  desolation,  relieved  and 
chastened,  however,  by  their  entire  trust  in  the  Sa 
viour,  whose  gospel  the  husband  and  father  had  long 
and  warmly  loved,  and  in  whose  wise  Providence 
they  themselves  fully  confided,  even  whilst  thus 
"  slaying  them."  A  glad  and  kind  home  was  then 
darkened.  The  sorrow  of  a  daughter,  remarkably 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

attached  to  her  father,  may  be  best  described  in 
the  language  which  she  used  at  the  time  in  her 
diary  from  whose  pages  it  is  now  transcribed  : 

"-November  4th,  1850. — Well  I  am  at  home 
again.  I  have  been  home  a  long  time.  There  is  a 
long  interval  since  my  last  entry  and  the  present, 
and  a  longer  period  in  my  life.  I  have  endured 
the  greatest  affliction  that  ever  could  befall  me  in 
that  space  of  time.  When  last  I  wrote  in  this 
brief  record  of  daily  employments  I  was  happy, 
I  had  no  cares  but  those  I  made  for  myself,  no 
reasonable  wishes  ungratified,  and  I  was  sheltered 
from  every  thing  evil  in  the  sweet,  strong  refuge 
of  my  father's  love.  Now  how  changed.  It  is 
the  same  home,  the  same  room,  nothing  around 
me  is  altered,  but  in  one  fearful  day  all  earth's 
hopes,  peace,  enjoyment,  protection  have  left  me 
forever.  I  am  fatherless.  Bitter,  unwelcome 
truth,  how  gladly  would  I  disbelieve  it.  The 
trials  of  past  years,  and  they  were  neither  few  nor 
slight,  are  all  swallowed  up  in  this.  We  bore 
them  patiently,  cheerfully,  because  we  had  hope. 
Now  we  have  none.  The  grave  can  not  give  up 
its  trust ;  the  precious  clay  will  not  revive  at  our 


VJU  INTRODUCTION. 

bidding ;  the  dear  voice  answers  not  our  passionate 
invocations — we  are  alone.  Alone,  and  oh  how 
unutterably  wretched.  He  used  to  think  I  had 
strength  of  character :  I  thought  I  had  it  myself, 
but  it  was  the  strength  of  the  wild  vine  clinging 
to  the  strong  trunk  of  its  forest  prop,  and  entwin 
ing  the  branches  so  closely  with  its  tendrils  that 
they  could  not  be  distinguished  the  one  from  the 
other.  Such  was  my  strength.  He  was  beautiful, 
and  noble,  and  powerful  in  his  calm  self-command, 
and  I  leaned  upon  him  lovingly.  When  the  de 
cree  went  forth  that  he  should  be  transplanted,  if 
it  had  been  done  gently,  and  by  degrees,  instead 
of  suddenly,  roughly  wrenching  away,  without  a 
word  of  warning  all  that  made  life  desirable,  we 
might  have  borne  it  better.  But  such  was  not 
God's  will.  In  the  morning  the  tall  tree  stood 
without  one  token  of  decay,  and  bore  up  its  feeble 
companions  with  a  strong  support,  and  at  night 
the  poor  ones  lay  crushed  and  bleeding,  in  the 
mire — their  prop  had  been  cut  down  and  car 
ried  away.  But  what  is  the  use  of  metaphor  ? 
The  horrible  truth,  dress  it  as  we  may,  remains 
the  same.  My  poor  mother  is  a  widow  and  I  am 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

fatherless.  And  the  mournful  remembrance  that 
we  have  no  last  words.  He  may  have  died  tri 
umphantly  ;  the  presence  of  his  Saviour  may  have 
so  sustained  him,  that  he  may  have  entered  with 
rapture  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord  ;  but  we  can  not 
tell  if  it  were  so.  He  may  have  died  calmly,  the 
sober  faith  of  a  life-time  not  failing  him  at  last ; 
and  this  the  solemnly  serene  countenance  would 
seem  to  indicate,  but  we  do  not  know  that  this 
was  the  way.  Or  as  the  waters  cold  and  dark 
rose  about  his  body,  so  the  colder,  darker  waters 
of  temptation  may  have  risen  on  his  spirit ;  the 
tempter  may  have  buffeted  him  to  the  last,  as  he 
has  since  buffeted  us.  Agony  of  regret  at  leaving 
us  alone  in  a  desolate  world,  may  have  been  his  last 
thought.  Worldly  cares  may  have  pressed  their 
disturbing  claims  upon  him ;  the  effort  to  escape 
may  have  absorbed  every  faculty  till  he  was  ex 
hausted.  Death  may  have  come  so  suddenly  that 
all  other  anxieties  were  swallowed  up  in  the  ur 
gent  needs  of  his  own  soul,  or  by  its  slow  approach 
may  have  given  him  time  to  intercede  for  and 
exhort  those  who  died  with  him.  All  these  con 
jectures  by  turns  occupy  us,  but  over  all  hangs 


X  INTE  ODUOTI  ON. 

the  same  dark  uncertainty,  and  this  increases  our 
trial  tenfold.  And  the  last  words  of  some  Chris 
tians  have  been  so  precious  to  survivors  as  almost 
to  take  away  the  pain  of  parting.  Oh  my  beloved 
father,  why  was  I  not  allowed  to  pillow  thy  dying 
head  I  so  fondly  loved ;  why  might  I  not  have  gone 
down  with  thee  to  the  "  swellings  of  Jordan."  I 
think  of  that  dear  head  tossed  hither  and  thither 
by  the  wild  waves  and  bruised  on  the  rough  beach, 
till  I  am  wild  myself.  Would  God  I  had  died  with 
thee.  But  he  was  truly  mourned,  and  not  by  us 
only.  Those  who  have  come  to  sorrow  with  us, 
sorrow  because  they  themselves  lost  a  precious 
friend — somebody  whom  they  could  trust ;  and  the 
one  testimony  from  all  who  knew  him  is,  that  he 
is  happy,  but  for  us 

'  All  bright  hopes  and  hues  of  day 
Have  faded  into  twilight  gray.'  " 

After  a  time  Miss  Griggs,  at  the  suggestion  of 
many  friends  who  knew  the  ripeness  of  her  judg 
ment  and  attainments,  and  who  wished  to  see  her 
talents  employed  in  some  such  manner  as  would 
beguile  her  sorrow  and  be  also  useful  to  others, 


INTRODUCTION.  XI 

applied  herself  to  the  preparation  of  a  Memoir, 
and  the  translation  of  the  remains,  of  Jacqueline 
Pascal,  the  gifted  sister  of  the  great  author  of  the 
Provincial  Letters.  The  volume  appeared  from 
the  press  of  the  CARTERS  in  New  York,  and  was 
promptly  republished  by  NISBET  in  London.  The 
Eclectic  Review,  of  the  latter  city,  spoke  with 
warm  and  just  praise  of  the  freedom  and  racy 
idiomatic  ease  of  the  style,  which  made  it  difficult 
to  regard  the  parts  actually  translated  from  the 
French  as  being  written  originally  in  another  lan 
guage  than  the  English.  But  Jacqueline  Pascal, 
although  one  of  the  first  martyrs  in  the  struggle 
of  Jansenism  against  wily  and  relentless  Jesuit 
ism,  and  singularly  able  and  earnest  in  defending 
the  great  truths  of  the  gospel  for  which  Jansenism 
bore  its  witness,  was  also  a  staunch  Catholic,  and 
the  inmate  of  a  nunnery,  the  famed  Port  Royal 
des  Champs,  whose  discipline  was  of  the  strictest 
character. 

The  prevalence  of  the  controversy  provoked  by 
the  Oxford  Tracts  for  the  Times,  had  in  Britain 
and  America  made  Protestantism  unwontedly  jea 
lous  of  all  that  seemed  in  any  way  to  favor  any 


xii  INTRODUCTION. 

school  or  member  of  the  Romish  Church.  Many — 
not  stopping  to  learn  the  real  relations  of  the 
great  Jansenist  body  to  the  doctrines  of  grace,  and 
their  sufferings,  heroism,  and  genius  in  defense  of 
the  vital  truths  of  the  gospel,  as  held  in  glorious 
successipn  by  Paul,  Augustine,  and  Jansenius, 
no  less  than  by  Calvin — shrunk  from  examining  a 
volume  that  if  begun  would  have  mastered  their 
sympathies,  conquered  their  prejudices,  and  well 
repaid  their  study.  Though  valued  by  those  who 
could  judge,  the  book  never  found,  therefore,  the 
wide  currency  that  it  merited. 

As  was  known  to  her  friends  only,  Miss  Griggs 
wrote  in  verse  also  on  the  sad  calamity  that  had 
made  her  home  so  suddenly  desolate.  She  had 
occasionally  indulged  and  recorded  her  sorrow  in 
lines  of  various  measure,  and  of  unequal  literary 
execution.  Much  of  real  genius  and  some  rare 
felicities  of  expression  are  found  in  these  composi 
tions.  At  the  wish  of  relatives  and  near  friends, 
a  few  copies  of  these  collected  verses  were  printed 
in  a  volume,  entitled  "  My  Father's  Knell,"  exclu 
sively  for  private  circulation. 

The  volume  that  now  makes  its  appearance  has 


INTRODUCTION.  Xlll 

its  own  separate  history.  The  health  of  the  writer 
failed.  The  undue  application  in  preparing  for 
the  press  her  Jacqueline  Pascal  had  perhaps  aided 
somewhat  to  exasperate  and  precipitate  her  sick 
ness.  She  used  travel  and  many  systems  of  treat 
ment,  and  endured  great  physical  sufferings,  in  the 
long  protracted  but  unavailing  hope  of  relief  from 
the  malady  that  threatened  to  prison  and  cripple 
her.  It  was  not  the  will  of  God  that  this  sickness 
should  be  removed.  Meanwhile,  and  in  the  periods 
often  of  keen  bodily  suffering,  she  solaced  herself 
by  the  composition  of  poetry  on  various  themes 
that  presented  themselves  to  the  invalid,  shut  in 
by  the  walls  of  the  sick  room.  But  strong  in 
Christian  hope  she  retained,  as  her  verses  show,  a 
true  and  filial  grasp  on  the  Faithful  and  Fatherly 
hand  that  wielded  the  rod  of  chastening,  and  min 
gled  and  proffered  the  cup  of  bitter  but  salutary 
affliction.  Her  bodily  distress  was  such,  that 
those  who  most  valued  her  could  not  desire  a  con 
tinued  stay  Tor  her  on  earth,  amid  such  anguish. 
Favored  with  reason  and  speech  to  the  last,  she 
took  her  departure,  hopefully  and  calmly,  in  the 
reliance  on  Christ's  grace  and  faithfulness  that  had 


xiv  INTRODUCTION. 

long  blessed  her,  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  Feb 
ruary,  1860. 

It  is  believed  that  the  Christian  will  find  much 
in  the  poetry  to  win  and  repay  the  attention  asked 
for.  Of  more  literary  finish  than  her  earlier  lines, 
it  shows  glimpses  of  the  same  genius,  culture,  and 
warm  affectionateness,  that  made  her  the  object 
of  true  regard  to  her  friends. 

And  the  mother  now  sends  forth  this  memorial, 
blessing  God  for  such  a  child,  and  for  the  testi 
mony  which  that  child  gave  to  the  sufficiency  and 
immutability  of  the  gospel  as  a  support  in  earth's 
heaviest  calamities,  and  to  its  value  in  the  antici 
pations  it  opens  of  that  better  world — where  the 
friends  in  Christ  now  removed,  may  be  one  day 
rejoined — where  the  graces  here,  at  best  imperfect, 
shall  be  seen  in  their  highest  symmetry — and 
where  Christ  shall,  by  His  now  assembled  people, 
be  praised  more  worthily  and  be  resembled  more 
vividly  and  more  entirely. 


CONTENTS. 


PAC.R 

PROEM , 19 

THE  LOADSTONE  FORT 22 

SAVIOUR,  now  PEACEFULLY  THE  LIFE 25 

IT  CANNA  BE  LANG 28 

THE  ANOINTED  EYE 30 

TIRED  HEART,  SLEEP 39 

•LITTLE  CARRIE 41 

THE  ORANGE  TREE 45 

COLIGNI  AND  L'ESTRANGE 46 

ANYTHING  BUT  THIS 52 

DISTANCE  REMOVED,  DARKNESS  REMOVED 54 

THE  FEAR  OF  EVIL 56 

HERE  AND  HEREAFTER GO 

THE  OPAL  .RING 64 

"  IN  SIGHT  OF  HEAVEN," • 6G 

THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  TKMPLE 72 

IF  ALL  ALONG  OUR  EARTHLY  WAY 75 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

PACK 

BURIED  IN  JERUSALEM 77 

"  ROSE-WATER  SURGERY" 83 

PROBING 85 

To  A  SPIRITUALIST 87 

AN  INCIDENT 92 

"  APPEAR  NOT  UNTO  MEN  TO  FAST" 96 

OCEAN  BLOSSOMS 99 

SABBATHS  AT  HOME 102 

THEY  WENT  AND  TOLD  JESUS 106 

"  AWAKE,  THOU  THAT  SLEEPEST" 109 

THE  APOSTLES'  CREED 113 

OLD  AUTHORS 120 

"  I  COUNT  ONLY  THE  HOURS  THAT  SHINE" 1 24 

"WEEPING  MAY  ENDURE  FOR  A  NIGHT". 128 

To  THE  SUBTERRANEAN  RIVER 129 

THE  RIVER'S  RESPONSE 132 

THE  BOTTOMLESS  PIT 135 

CRADLE  SINGING 137 

DIVINE  SERVICE 143 

DISSONANCE % 145 

HEART,  WELL  NIGH  HOME  ! • 147 

THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CHAIN 149 

"LIKE  HIM,  FOR  WE  SHALL  SEE  HIM  AS  HE  is" 153 


CONTENTS.  XVU 

PAGE 

LEGEND  OP  ST.  CUEISTOPIIER 156 

THE  RAINBOW  ON  THE  RAILWAY 173 

SUSPENSE 176 

THE  LESSON  OF  GIDEON 179 

RACHEL,  LADY  RUSSELL  1S2 

PARTING 188 

"  EXCEPT  THE  LORD  BUILD  THE  HOUSE" 191 

THOMAS  FULLER  ON  PINS 105 

SECOND  CAUSES 198 

THE  BUTTERFLY 201 

SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  REPROCHE 205 

HOMELESSNESS 208 

44  WE   KNOW  NOT  WHAT   WE  SHALL   BE" 212 

SORROW  AND  CONSOLATION 215 

SPRING  VIOLETS 218 

"  DEAL  GENTLY  WITH  THY  SERVANT" 221 

THE  LONELY  CHRISTMAS 225 

SHADOWS  AND  SUNSHINE 227 

IN  THE  CITY  OF  REFUGE 2.'?0 

ANOTHER  GRIEF 233 

OUR  BROKEN  TINE 237 

UNCLOTHED 2 10 

CLOTHED  UPON 213 

2" 


XV111  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A  GARDEN  THOUGHT 246 

HAVELOCK  AT  ALUMBAGH 248 

RIVER  BURIAL 253 

ICONOCLASJT 256 

NEVER  PRAT  FOR  TRIALS 259 

THE  STARLESS  CROWN 2G2 

ANCHORED,  TET  WEARY 266 

PRAYER  OF  ONE  NO  LONGER  PRAYED  FOR 268 

COUNT  Louis  OF  NASSAU 272 

"  I  WILL  GIVE  HIM  THE  MORNING  STAR" 276 

BY  THE  BRINK  OF  THE  RIVER 279 

L'ENVOi. .  .   283 


PR-OEM. 


ONE,  of  her  only  son  "bereft, 
Herself  a  widow,  to  the  wave 

Whose  mad  up-rising  joyless  left 
Her  life,  an  offering  gave — 

Lest  there,  with  anguish  like  her  own, 
Might  mother's  heart  again  he  wrung, 

From  shore  to  shore  a  "bridge  of  stone 
With  shielding  rail  she  hung. 

O'er  sorrow's  channel,  hroad  and  dark, 
We  seek  to  fling  no  feehle  span  ; 

There,  long  ago,  a  stately  arc 
Hose  without  toil  of  man. 


?0  PROEM. 

No  flood  its  piles  may  undermine, 
Nor  furious  gale  the  arches  move  ; 

Upheld  in  peace  on  piers  divine, 
Their  keystone — "  God  is  Love." 

And  they  whose  feet  the  bridge  have  won 
Securely,  view  the  stream  obey 

That  curb  of  power,  till,  fret-work  done, 
It  falls  in  sun-lit  spray. 

But  ours  too  oft  have  strayed  afar, 

And  sunk  in  depths  of  gloom  and  mire, 

While  following  long,  for  beacon-star, 
Some  ray  of  marsh-born  fire. 

Now  in  meek  penance  would  we  plant 
Way-marks  for  pilgrim  hearts  to  find, 

When  through  morass  or  wood,  in  want 
And  weariness  they  wind ; 


PROEM.  21 

With  Song's  clear  lantern  would  enclose 
Some  thoughts  whose  glow-worm  light, 
in  hours 

Of  pain,  to  yon  sure  Bridge  of  Woes, 
Has  gently  guided  ours. 


THE    LOADSTONE    FOKT 


[An  old  Hindoo  tradition  tells  of  such  a  fort  among  the 
mountain  ranges  of  India,  which  drew  to  itself  the  weapons 
of  all  assailants,  and  was,  of  course,  impregnable.] 

ARE  hostile  feet  in  hush,  of  midnight  falling 

On  the  hush'd  snows  of  Himalayan  hills, 
Bound  for  the  Loadstone  Fort  ?     No  bugle's 

calling 
Wakes  inmate  ere  he  wills. 

And  foes  may  steal  unnotic'd  near  the  trenches, 
Or  with  bold  front  in  banner'd  force  deploy, 
While  each  in  ireful  hold  his  falchion  clenches, 
And  wields  with  warrior's  joy. 


THE     LOADSTONE      FOBT.  23 

Yet  from  tall  tower  no  eye  of  chieftain  gazes 

To  scan  the  coming  of  a  long-fear'd  harm, — 
No  wild  alarm  the  sick  or  weary  dazes  ; 
Each  bastion  hath  a  charm. 

And  while  through  loadstone  walls  that  For 
tress  draweth 

The  keenest  missile  to  its  own  calm  side, 
Vainly  the  war-hail  flies. — No  legion  aweth 
Him  to  its  Lord  allied. 

Scarce  is  a  foe  beheld  his  sword  unsheathing, 

Ere  sword  and  scabbard  to  the  walls  are  flown ; 
Shield,   helm   and  harness,  in  bright  circles 

wreathing 
Like  garlands,  there  have  grown. 

THOU  art  my  Fortress,  Lord  !     When  evils 

hound  me 
In  horrid  chase  along  Life's  mountain  gorge, 


24  THE     LOADSTONE     FORT. 

Once  in  Thy  Presence,  harmlessly  around  me, 
Falls  steel  from  Hell's  red  forge. 

Then  hold  me  near  Thee  !     Through  serene 

attraction 
Win  Thou  the  arrows  from  my  sin-pierc'd 

soul  ; 

And  powers,  long  thrall'd  by  Self  in  rebel  fac 
tion, 
Within  Thy  force  enroll  ! 

Thus,  tho'  the  outworks  where  I  lean  are  lying 

In  a  low  valley,  near  a  brackish  well, 
The  same  fair  banner  overhead  is  flying 
As  from  the  Citadel ; 

And  I  can  wait,  until  the  clouds  that  trammel 

Mine  upward  view,  melt  silently  away — 
Till  Heaven's  full  Sun  my  glorious  Fort  enamel 
With  blazonry  of  Day  ! 


SAVIOUR  !   HOW  PEACEFULLY 
THE   LIFE. 


SAVIOUR  !  how  peacefully  the  life, 
Now  with  regretful  murmurs  rife, 

Would  drop  its  noiseless  sands, 
Could  we  but  feel  each  tiny  grain, 
Each  moment  fraught  with  joy  or  pain, 

Was  measur'd  through  Thy  hands. 

For  Thou  art  loving  !     Thou  art  wise  I 
No  fringe  from  Thy  far-seeing  eyes 

Can  shut  out  land  or  sea.  f 

Thy  power,  Thy  love  inlacing  thus- 
Dark  though  the  future  seem  to  us, 

It  is  not  dark  to  Thee  ! 


26  SAVIOUR: 

We  do  not  wish  Life's  folded  woof 
Held  from  Thy  rightful  touch  aloof, — 

Are  glad  its  rule  is  Thine  ; 
Yet  often  faith  in  fear  will  shrink 
From  shape  uncouth,  sad  hue,  and  think 

To  change  some  lesser  line. 

A  day  all  sunshine  and  soft  air, 
A  life  unshadow'd  by  one  care, 

To  our  dull  vision  look 
More  suited  for  the  hearts  we  prize, 
As  wings  whereon  their  praise  may  rise  ; 

Than  chastening  hard  to  brook. 

But  Thy  calm  love,  Oh  wiser  Lord, 
Thro'  clouds  where  heaviest  rain  is  stored, 

Can  freshest  verdure  bring, 
And  bid  the  storms  that  rack  our  globe 
Swathe  in  a  snow-soft  ermine  robe 

The  Royal  Infant — Spring. 


HOW     PEACEFULLY     THE     LIFE.       27 

Then  with  each  blackening  tempest-shade, 
Let  Thy  felt  love  a  glory  braid  ! 

Type  of  the  bliss  we  know 
Awaits  Thy  chosen,  when  at  last    . 
True  light  shall  stream  on  trials  past, 

From  stainless  Emerald  Bow  ! 


IT    CANNA    BE    LANQ-. 


ON  a  caltfi  summer  eve  was  the  bridal 
Of  one  who  had  suffered  so  long, 

That  fond  gratulation  seemed  idle, 
The  gladness  it  prophesied,  wrong. 

She  had  learn'd  how  life's  pleasures  were  fleeting 
As  pearls  which  on  rose-petals  hang  ; 

And  gently  replied  to  our  greeting, 

"  Aweel,  it  canna  "be  lang." 

How  sad,  when  young  pulses  are  bounding 
In  valleys  where  sweet  waters  well, 

To  hear  the  gay  saraband  rounding 
So  soon,  in  a  sorrowful  knell ! 

Oh  coffin  of  feasting  Egyptian  ! 

Through  garlands,  through  dulcimer's  clang, 

Still  pierceth  thy  pallid  inscription — • 

"  Aweel,  it  canna  be  lang  I" 


IT     CANNA     BE     LANG.  29 

Yet  it  comes  like  a  tender  evangel, 
A  love-breeze,  borne  over  Earth's  deep 

In  the  bosom  of  pitying  angel, 
To  those  who  in  solitude  weep. 

Though  each  morn  bring  thy  longings  denial ; 
Each  twilight  add  pang  unto  pang  ; 

Till  the  final  cloud  fall  on  thy  dial — 

"Aweel,  it  canna  be  lang  \" 

Ah  !  the  road  whereon  saint  and  apostle 
Once  wandered,  hath  loiterers  yet ; 

Shall  we  murmur,  if  enemies  jostle, 
If  snares  by  its  hedges  are  set  ? 

Shall  we  faint  at  each  fresh  contradiction  ? 
Nay  !  sing,  as  of  old,  men  sang, 

While  flame-rings  sealed  fast  the  conviction,* 
"  Aweel,  it  canna  be  lang  !" 

*  "  Be  the  day  weary,  or  be  the  day  long, 

At  length  it  ringeth  to  even-song," 

was  a  favorite  distich  with  the  English  Reformers  in  the 
Marian  persecution. 

2* 


THE  ANOINTED  EYE. 


THE  fairies  watched  her  pretty  ways  thoughout 

the  livelong  day, 
And  then  with  gifts  and  glozing   talk   they 

lured  the  child  away  ; 
They  lured  her  from  the  orchard-slope,  a-down 

the  green  hill-side, 
From  the  cottage  where  her  mother  dwelt,  her 

baby-sister  died. 

Their  carved  corals  clasped  her  arm,  and  Alice 

grew  content 
To  count  the  spots  on  elfin  wings,  and  follow 

where  they  went ; 


THE     ANOINTED     EYE.  31 

To  feel  herself  the  pet  and  pride  of  all  that 

laughing  train, 
Unweeting  how  her  brothers  wept  to  have  her 

back  again. 


And  guileful  hands  bade  sleep's  soft  dew  upon 

her  eyes  distil, 
She  slept,  and  wakening,  lo  !  her  couch  lay  far 

within  the  hill ; 
And  daisy-chain,  and  cowslip-ball,  at  morning 

thought  so  fine, 
Looked  colorless  by  rainbow  gems  full  flashing 

through  the  mine. 


Then  sang  they — "  Choose,  fair  Alice,  wreath 

of  jewels  if  you  list, 
"  Your  dark-blue  eyes  are  lovelier  than  yonder 

amethyst — 


32  THE     ANOINTED     EYE. 

"  Slight  value  now  hath  topaz  ray,  or  ruby's 

crimson  sheen, 
"  While  we  can  kiss  your  rosy  cheek,  and 

claim  you  for  our  queen." 


And  long  among  those  elfin  hills  the  simple 

Alice  dwelt 
In  pleasure,  pomp,  and  revelry,  the  lapse  of 

time  unfelt, 
Until  one  night  the  fairies  said — "  To-morrow, 

all  alone 
"Must  we  leave  our  darling  mistress,  on  a 

mission  of  our  own." 


Though  bright  new  toys  lay  round  her,  ere  the 

troop  would  ride  away, 
It  was  a  wistful  watcher  viewed  their  festival 

array  ; 


THE     ANOINTED     EYE.  3S 

And  when  with  salve  from  casket  brought 

must  all  their  eyelids  touch, 
What  meaning  in  the  spell  could  lie,  fair  Alice 

wondered  much. 


Soon  disappeared  with   farewell   smiles    the 

merry  cavalcade, 
While  Alice  felt,  despite  her  toys  and  jewels, 

half  afraid, 
Before  an   hour  was  spent  she  sighed— -"It 

surely  must  be  noon  j" 
When  noon  arrived,  "  How  lightly  now  they 

dance  beneath  the  moon." 


"  Where  are  my  playmates  wandering  ?  ah  I 

did  I  only  know, 
"Doubtless  I  too  could  follow,  and  behold 

some  rarest  show." 


34  THE     ANOINTED     EYE. 

Then  on  the  casket  fell  her  eye,  and  soon  a 

shout  of  glee 
Told  her  espial  of  the  nook  where  gleamed  its 

polished  key. 


One  moment  ere  the  fastening  yields — ^another 

— and  her  eye 
Hath  met  the  magic  ointment.   With  a  sudden, 

sorrowing  cry, 
Poor  Alice  gazed  around  her  on  a  cavern  cold 

and  bare 
Of  all  save  leaves  and  lichens  grey,  that  imaged 

her  despair. 


Where  gold-inwoven  tapestries  waved  gorge 
ously  at  morn, 

Hung  only  shattered  spider*-webs  and  pensile 
moss  forlorn  ; 


THE     ANOINTED     EYE.  35 

She  longed,  yet  trembled  for  tlie  sound  of 

footsteps  coming  back, 
And  when  they  came,  rich  robe  and  plume  all 

radiance  seemed  to  lack. 


Those  graceful  forms  had  hollow  grown,  more 

hollow  still  their  laugh, 
The  luscious  wine  they  offered  her  she  did  not 

care  to  quaff; 
And  saying,  "  I  am  weary,"  soon  they  fancied 

Alice  slept, 
But  all  the  while  with  folded  eyes,  sad  Alice 

lay  and  wept. 


And    long-forgotten    sounds    once    more    in 

dreamy  swell  uprose, 
Sweet  snatches  of  her  cradle   songs,  prayers 

heard  at  Sabbath  close  ; 


30  THE     ANOINTED     EYE. 

She  started  up,  the  fays  were  gone,  and  in  the 

distance  far 
A  soft,  faint  light  came  struggling  through 

some  fissure,  like  a  star. 


Toward  that  far  gleam  then  groping  on  with 

all  her  slender  strength, 
Behold  it  waxing  broader,  ever  broader,  till  at 

length 
Deep  down  within  the  opening  a  flood  of  glory 

rolled — 
And  the  Summer  was  before  her  in  its  garb  of 

green  and  gold. 


Fast  paled  her  elfin  livery  before  that  vision 

rare — 
And  when  could  elfin  lullaby  with  voice  of 

home  compare  ? 


THB     ANOINTED     EYE.  37 

Safe  in  her  old  meek  place  of  rest,  she  dwells 

by  mother's  knee : 
None  Alice  thence  shall  ever  wile  with  fraud- 

ful  gem  or  plea. 


0  Lord  !  if  thine  anointing  Love  have  shown 
our  souls  how  bare 

Of  truest  joy  are  Earth's  delights,  her  pa 
geantry  and  glare — • 

If  from  Thy  holy  heaven  of  Light  a  single 
guiding  ray 

Through  ice-rift  of  the  glacier — -Self — have 
forced  its  reinless  way. 


Still  may  Thy  mercy  lead  us  on,  still  with 

Thy  strength  infuse 

The  feeble  faith  that  else  would  sink  at  mo 
mentary  bruise— 


38  THE     ANOINTED     EYE. 

Till,  dwelling  in  Thy  Sun-light,  joyous  angel- 
welcomes  ring 

To  hail  us  safe  and  satisfied,  before  Thee,  0 
our  King  I 


TIKED    HEAKT,    SLEEP, 


TIEED  Heart,  sleep  1 
Sleep  on  quiet  pillow  1 

Though,  around  thee  leap 
Foam  of  wind-lashed  billow, 
Safe  as  in  calm  nook, 

Which  fair  Summer  ruleth, 
Sleep  !  thy  Saviour's  look 

Cloud  and  rough  wind  schooleth. 

Tired  Heart,  sleep  t 
Tired  of  wistful  grieving — 

Grieve  no  more,  nor  keep 
"Watch  o'er  waves  thou  'rt  leaving  1 
Let  the  night-glooms  rise, 

Dark  as  wing  of  raven, 


40  TIRED     HEART,     SLEEP! 

For  thy  pinnace  flies 
Fast  toward  blissful  haven. 

Tired  Heart,  sleep  ! 
All  Earth's  woe  is  wafted 

Soon  away,  while  deep 
Are  thy  joys  engrafted 
In  a  Saviour's  cross — 

Starred  with  light  unwaning  I 
Boot,  whence  pain  and  loss 

Win  immortal  gaining  I 

Tired  Heart,  sleep  I 
Till  thy  Lord's  hand,  closing 

Eyes  long  prone  to  weep, 
End,  too,  thy  reposing  : 
Then  awake  and  sing  1 

Where  Life's  glorious  river- 
Fed  from  love's  full  spring— » 

Tires  no  more  for  ever  I 


LITTLE    CABBIE 


A  MOTIIKR'S  TALE. 


SNOW-DRIFTS  like  sentinels  were  filed 
Against  the  chamber  where  my  child 
Slept  in  the  hush  they  made,  and  smiled. 

My  Carrie !  fair  as  wreath  of  snow— 
Her  cheeks  with  sunrise  flush  aglow — 
Her  hair  like  sunset's  amber  flow. 

Ah  !  well  I  know  that  love  is  kind, 
And  will,  in  homeliest  features  find 

Charms  to  which  common  eyes  are  blind  : 
3* 


42  LITTLE     CARRIE. 

But  ever,  where  my  Carrie  went, 
Looks  on  her  loveliness  were  bent, 
Which  said,  "  Beware  !  the  child  is  lent : 

"  Nay,  clasp  her  not  with  such  delight, 
For  angels'  hold  on  earth  is  slight, 
And  she  will  seek  the  land  of  light  1" 

Some  infant  smiles  like  sunbeams  stray  ; 
Hers  in  our  dwelling  old  and  gray, 
Shone  more  like  moonlight's  mellow  ray. 

For  thoughtful  seemed  her  eyes'  deep  blue, 
As  though  their  mute  child- wisdom  knew 
Of  much  beyond  our  mortal  view ; 

Yet  soon  again  some  baby- wile, 
Or  dimpling  of  her  roguish  smile, 
"Would  fondest  mother-fears  beguile. 


LITTLE     CAEEIE.  43 

Thus  eighteen  months  had  slipped  away, 
When  Carrie  climbed,  one  summer  day, 
To  ivory  keys,  and  feigned  to  play. 

The  waxen  fingers  woke  faint  clang ; 
But  like  a  lark's  her  clear  voice  rang — 
I  stopped  and  marvelled  while  she  sang ; 

Then  left  her  on  some  brief  employ — 
Sweet  croon  of  welcome  !  with  what  joy 
It  told  my  absence  gave  annoy. 

That  night  she  sickened.     Short  the  space, 
I  held  her  in  my  sad  embrace, 
Watching  the  languors  on  her  face, 

Before  a  change  came  o'er  her  mien  ; 
Her  look  grew  saint-like  and  serene, 
Toward  bitter  cup  turned  gentle  e'en — 


44  LITTLE     CABBIB. 

Small  finger  pointed — pale  lips  tried 
To  drink  in  vain — and  to  my  side 
More  closely  nestling,  Carrie  died. 

That  voice  of  music  filled  mine  ears, 
I  clasped  her  close  in  dreams  for  years, 
At  day-dawn  missed  her,  blind  with  tears  : 

But  now  those  faithless  tears  are  dried  ; 
Here  at  my  calling  could  she  glide, 
I  would  not  call  her  to  my  side. 

From  vision  of  her  Saviour-King, 

From  blisses  past  imagining, 

Dare  love  like  mine  its  dear  one  bring 

Where  sin  might  soil  my  snow-wreath  fair — 
Her  clear  voice  moan  in  Earth's  despair  ? — 
Ah  no  !  I  would  we  all  were  there  1 


THE    OKANGE-TKEE. 

"  Le  Fruit  ne  fait  pas  tomber  la  fleur." 


No  -<rork  of  grace  will  ripen,  some  have  said, 

With  bloom  unshed  ; 
All  fair  young  petals  lose,  in  Summer's  glow, 

Their  spotless  snow ; 
And  holy  fervors  thus  through  trial  thin 

Ere  fruits  begin. 

But  make  my  life,  0  Lord,  an  orange-tree, 

Thick  hung  for  thee, 
With  golden  deeds  of  mercy  by  whose  side 

Meek  prayers  abide  ; 
Thus  yielding  to  Thy  glory,  every  hour, 

Love's  fruit  and  flower. 


COLIGNI  AND  L'ESTKANGE. 


AN  INCIDENT  IN  THE  \VABS  OP  THE  REFORMATION. 


BOKNE  away  from  battle  surges 

Where  white  crests  of  kinsfolk  meet — 
While  around  despairing  dirges 

Moan  for  Moncontour's  defeat, 
Throbs  the  heart  at  sunrise  eager 

France  with  brave  right  arms  to  free 
From  proud  hoof  of  Priest  and  Leaguer, 

Spurred  and  reined  by  Holy  See  : 
And  while  sunset  slowly  dies, 
That  dear  hope  in  death-shroud  lies 
Stark  before  his  wearied  eyes. 


COLIGNI     AND     LESTE  AXGE.  4 

Through  the  day  when  steel  clashed  niadly 

Was  Coligni's  helmet  seen, 
If  the  van-guard  wavered^  gladly 

Pressing  where  their  place  had  been  : 
Now  a  closely-curtained  litter 

Veils  from  all  the  warrior's  frame, 
Smart  of  wounds,  though  keen,  less  bitter 

Than  his  sense  of  grief  and  shame, 
Heaping  fast  on  burning  brain, 

Fuel,  memories  of  pain, 

Prayers  and  toilings  spent  in  vain. 

Foes  who  long  his  Faith  have  slandered  ; 

Comrades  recreant  to  their  God  ; 
Worse,  far  worse,  the  Holy  Standard 

Now  by  heel  of  scoffers  trod  ; 
Each  sad  thought  through  wan  cheek  tingling 

With  a  sudden  fever-glow, 
Till  the  poisoned  waves  commingling 

Bid  Faith's  chalice  overflow — 


48        COLIGNI    AND    L'ESTRANGK. 

Thus  while  powers  of  darkness  reign 
Better  had  the  brave  heart  lain 
Cold  among  yon  pires  of  slain  I 

And  perchance  the  soul  reflective 

In  that  hour  of  gloom  might  peer 
Onward  till  in  dim  perspective 

It  discerned  a  darker  year, 
When  with  band  of  butchers  gory 

Guise  at  dead  of  night  uprose — 
When  Coligni's  head,  grown  hoary, 

Bowed  beneath  assassin's  blows — • 
Koyal  feastings,  bridal  ring, 
Naught  but  snares  of  hell  to  bring 
Birds  to  slaughter,  else  a-wing. 

Twilight  fell  o'er  wold  and  meadow — 
Dawn  upheld  her  shield  of  flame — 

Only  dreams  of  heavier  shadow 

Bound  the  imprisoned  warrior  came, 


COLIGNI     AND     L'E  S  T  K  A  N  G  E.  49 

Till  a  hand  its  veil  unfolding, 

Tramp  of  spearmen  toward  his  cell 

Bore  another  litter  holding 
Frame  and  spirit  pained  as  well ; 

Yet  he  welcomed  not  his  friend, 

Comfort  there  was  none  to  lend ; 

Coward  plainings  served  no  end. 


Soon  L'Estrange's  sight  grew  dimmer 

Watching  the  beloved  brow  ; 
Fain  would  Love  with  moonlight  shimmer 

That  grief-furrowed  lake  endow. 
"  Yet  is  G-od  sweet  consolation" 

Fell  at  length  from  quivering  lip  ; 
Then  he  turned  in  agitation 

Stifling  sohs  that  else  would  slip 
Strongest  leash  of  manly  pride, 
Bound  all  agonies  to  hide 
From  the  soldiers  ranged  heside. 

5 


50  COLIGNI     AND     I/ESTRANGE. 

Long,  with  face  in  pillow  buried, 

Long  and  slowly  wept  L'Estrange, 
Weeping,  while  his  whisper  hurried 

Brought  Coligni  blissful  change. 
Swift  as  breath  of  summer  sounding 

Thrills  through  gloomiest  grove  of  pine- 
Joyful  thoughts,  of  God's  abounding " 

Strength  and  succour,  sped  like  wine 
Through  the  wounded  leader's  veins  ; 
Taught  him  tears  and  toil  and  pains, 
Harm  not  whom  the  Lord  sustains. 

Voice  of  holiest  pastor  never 

(Said  he  oft  in  after-days) 
Could  his  soul  to  brave  endeavor 

Stir  like  those  fond  words  and  gaze. 
Sown  in  tears,  the  flower  sprang  faster, 

Though  by  sower  soon  forgot, 
Blooming  long,  an  autumn  aster, 

Whose  mild  beauty  altered  not 


COLIGNI     AND     L'ESTKANGE.  51 


Till  that  fateful  midnight  frown, 
When  a  mangled  corpse  fell  down, 
And  the  Martyr  won  his  crown  !   . 


ANYTHING    BUT    THIS. 


"  Some  other  sorrow  !     Lord,"  I  cried, 
"  Thine  arsenal  of  woe  is  wide  ; 
Lift  from  its  gleaming  rows 
Some  blunter  weapon !     Pain,  disease, 
And  death  are  powerless  till  Thou  please — 
All  grief  Thine  impress  knows. 

"  Well  may  my  spirit  faint  with  fear  : 
This  blessing  lost — and  earth  lies  drear  : 

Take  not  my  only  joy  ! 
Think  on  past  years  of  mournful  pain  ; 
Oh  let  Thy  love,  with  genial  rain, 

Kevive,  and  not  destroy  !" 


ANYTHING     BUT     THIS.  53 

From  cloud-pavilions  answer  came  : 
"  Shall  sinful  man  his  Saviour  blame  ? 

Wilt  thou,  0  vine  so  frail  ! 
Choose  where  the  knife  shall  prune  awayk 
Tendrils  that  on  thy  life-sap  prey, 

And  make  thy  clusters  fail  ? 

"  The  closeness  of  thy  twining  grasp 
Proves  but  the  need  of  surly  rasp, 

Of  wrenching  swift  and  strong, 
To  move  away  that  precious  thing, 
The  trellis  where  thy  love-shoots  cling  : 

Nor  can  the  doom  be  wrong. 

"  This  is  thine  idol.     Fearful  heart, 
Christ  reigns  alone.     If  His  thou  art, 

Know,  He  will  surely  trim 
Each  vagrant  love  away,  yet  give 
Strength  by  His  own  true  word  to  live — 

To  lean  on  none  but  Him  !" 
5* 


DISTANCE  KEMOVED.— DAKKNESS 
KEMOVED. 

St.  John,  xvii.  v.  24. 


THROUGH  ages  hearts  have  stirr'd 
With  changeful  thoughts  of  Heaven,- 

With  woof  of  sign  and  gorgeous  word, 
To  en  weave  its  splendors  striven. 

As  when  from  altar-panes 

One  light,  in  parting  prism 
Of  vermeil  green,  and  violet  stains, 

Streams  down  on  royal  chrism  ; 

Each  varying  hue  of  bliss 

Through  the  mind's  oriel  thrown, 
Seems  but  a  pencil,  born  of  this, 

"  All  gloom — all  distance  gone  I" 


DISTANCE     REMOVED,     ETC.  55 

Let  aliens  dream  how  bright, 
Were  thoroughfares  of  gold — 

The  saint's  eye  craves  alone  for  light, 
Thy  glory  to  behold. 

And  where,  0  Christ  !  Thou  art, 

Thy  chosen  long  to  be  : 
That  far  land  draws  the  faithful  heart 

With  but  one  Magnet — Thee  ! 


THE    FEAR    OF    EVIL. 


"  Quiet  from  fear  of  evil."— PKOV.  1.  33. 

'Afraid,  because  of  the  sword  of  the  angel  of  the  Lord." 

1  CHRON.  xxi.  30. 


CRUSHED  as  by  cairn  of  sorrows,  Lord,  I  lie  ; 
Nor  would  I  murmur  at  Thy  faultless  will, 
But  sad  thoughts  lodge  within  me,  and  they  fly 
Aloft  like  chaff,  though  I  would  hold  them 
still. 

Ah  !  were  they  golden  wheat, 
Thy  winnowing  fan  to  meet, 
In  trustful  quiet,  need  I  fear  no  ill. 

The  fear  of  evil !     'Tis  an  evil  thing — 
For  in   Thy  presence,   that  all-shadowing 
Tree— 


THE     FEAR     OF     EVIL.  57 

The  heart  should  build  her  nest,  and,  bird-like, 

sing, 

Leaving  the  morrow's  care,   a  charge  for 
Thee ; 

Not  quail,  as  lonely  hare 
Sinks,  down,  in  sombre  lair, 
Hearing  far  bugles,  though  the  woods  are  free. 

He  who  on  couch  of  anguish  long  hath  lain, 

Winces  in  presage  of  the  coming  blast, 
And  feels  in  every  pulse  some  herald-pain, 
Ere  yet  one  cloud  the  blue  air  overcast. 
My  soul,  too,  quick  of  nerve, 
Will  even  in  sunshine  swerve 
When  change  impendeth,   shrinking  back 
aghast. 

Often,  if  grief  hath  come,  I  tremble  less, 

Worse  the  foreboding  than  the  woe,  when 
here, 


58  THE     FEAR     OF     EVIL. 

And  ere  it  passes,  oft  with  half-caress, 
I  would  detain  it,  lest  some  other  fear, 
Through  yet  undarkened  place, 
View,  in  funereal  pace, 
New  mourners  come  and  go,  like  Highland 
seer. 

So,  in  old  pictures  have  I  marked  the  fiend 
Lifting  from  coil  of  gloom  a  look  askance 
Toward  bright  archangel  who  above  him  leaned, 
And    brandished   near   his    brow    puissant 
lance, 

As  though  the  dusky  shape 
Sought  vainly  to  escape 
Keen  blade  of  vengeance,  and  far  keener 
glance. 

Ah  !  give  me,  Lord,  a  willingness  to  be 

Made  through  much  suffering  to  thy  saints 
akin, 


THE     FEAR     OF     EVIL.  59 

Give  faith  above  all  menaced  blows  to  see 
Hands  of  Thine  angels  wield  the  javelin, 
To  know,  when  sorrow  near 
Hangs  poised,  with  flashing  spear, 
What  writhes  within  me  is  the  Demon — Sin  ! 


HEKE    AND    HEKEAFTER. 


MY  life  is  a  sluggish  river, 

Winding  its  dull  career 
Through  flats  whereon  north  winds  shiver,- 

In  the  desolate  region — HERE. 

Once  it  flashed  forth  like  a  torrent, 

Lavish  of  diamond  spray- 
Passed  where  dark  boulders  horrent 

Shielded  its  sinuous  way— 
And  thence  through  an  outlet  of  Sorrow, 

In  stupor  and  silence  it  came 
Where  To-day  is  the  type  of  To-morrow, 

And  all  its  gay  flashes  are  tame, 


HEBE     AND     HEREAFTER.  61 

Far  down  in  the  channel  are  steeping 

Ashes  of  hopes  long  dead, 
As  the  wild  Goth  warrior  sleeping 

In  his  slave-river's  bed. 

Faintly  heaven's  sunlight  above  me 

Falls  on  miasma  of  fears, — 
Friends  who  most  tenderly  love  me 

Give  me  small  solace  save  tears. 

But  from  the  fair  realms — HEREAFTEB, 

Sorrow  and  sighing  flee  1 
Sobs  are  unechoed  by  rafter 

Of  dwellings  through  grace  made  free  ! 

None  grieve  o'er  a  love  too  shallow 
To  quiet  the  soul's  deep  thirst— 
For  the  fullness  of  God  will  hallow 
Their  bliss,  who  have  loved  Him  first. 


62  HEBE     AND     HEEEAFTEB. 

None  pause  by  a  sweet  rose-thicket, 
Whose  pathways  green  mosses  pave  ; 

To  weep  because  close-barred  wicket 
Defends  it,  or  worse — a  grave. 

None  grieve  over  a  long-sought  treasure 
Through  seeking,  sullied  and  torn  ; 

For  the  lilies  of  sinless  pleasure 
Grow  not  in  hedges  of  thorn. 

Fade  then,  ye  love-lights  1  spangling 
Time  with  your  peaceful  ray  ; 

Break,  fond  earth-meshes  !  entangling 
Hearts  from  their  heavenward  way. 

Seems  cry  of  the  night-owl  dreary  ? 

Dawn  cometh  to  lift  the  cloud, 
Then  for  watchers  no  longer  weary 

Will  song  of  the  lark  be  loud. 


HEKE     AND     HEREAFTER.  63 

Of  the  lark  ! — To  the  soul  far  sweeter 

Than  ever  morn-music  rose, 
Shall  the  welcome  of  Jesus  greet  her, 

Escaping  from  Sin's  last  woes. 


THE    OPAL    KING, 


AN  opal's  fire-in-snow 

Gleams  on  a  young  girl's  hand, 
While  gentle  whispers  show 

A  charm  in  the  golden  band. 

Not  alone  that  a  faery  spell 
Will  shiver  the  radiant  stone, 

When  its  fading  sparkles  tell 
Of  a  fond  love  faithless  grown. 

For  words  in  the  gift  are  shrined 
From  a  royal  Psalmist's  scroll, 

And  the  jeweled  ring  is  lined 
With  a  jewel  for  her  soul. 


THE     OPAL     KING.  65 

Awhile  the  maiden  kept 

That  charm  unbroken — Then 

O'er  the  shattered  opal  wept, 
And  the  shattered  faith  of  men. 

Gone  were  the  glow  and  sheen 

Of  giver  and  of  gem — 
But  the  golden  light  serene 

Of  the  psalm— went  not  with  them. 


IN    SIGHT    OF    HEAVEN. 


A  Pioneer  Missionary,  who  was  found  frozen  to  death  on  the  bank 
of  one  of  the  Western  Hirers  which  he  had  just  succeeded  in  crossing, 
held  in  his  hand  a  paper,  and  on  it  were  feebly  penciled  the  words  "  iu 
eight  of  hearen." 


0  TEiUMPH-glance   of  Pilot,  first  in  view  of 

broad  New  World  ! 
0  Flag,  by  weak  hands  waved  aloft,  and  held 

in  death  unfurled  ! 
Pale  blossoms  are  ye,  born  of  Earth,  to  die  by 

March- winds  driven, 
Beside  this  autumn-fruit  of  Faith,  that  glows 

"  in  sight  of  heaven." 

Yet  Earth  has  had  her  conquerors,  and  prince 

and  peasant  name 
Entwine  in  gorgeous  blazonry  along  the  scroll 

of  Fame, 


IN     SIGHT     OF     HEAVEN.  67 

And  glorious  memories  are  embalmed  among 

her  priceless  things — 
Of  warriors  brave  and  rulers  wise,  true  poets, 

patriot-kings. 


But  this  man  more  than  conqueror  through. 

might  of  love  became, 
To  bear  through  frontier-wilds  the  Cross  with 

loyal  hand  his  aim ; 
And  never  yet  hath  minstrel  heart,  by  love  or 

sorrow  riven, 
Indited  loftier  line  than  this  last  shout  "  in 

sight  of  heaven." 


Not  over  pleasant  garden-paths,    or  prairies 

green  and  gay 
With  turf  and  flowers  upspringing  fast,  God's 

herald  took  his  way ; 


68  IN     sfGHT     OF     HEAVEN. 

Nor  was  he  cheered  by  kindly  voice,  compan 
ionship  and  smile, 

Sent  forth  to  thread  the  wilderness  where  silent 
Indians  file. 


He  lay  not  on  a  peaceful  couch,  within  a  quiet 
room, 

While  friends  and  kindred  paved  with  love  his 
passage  to  the  tomb ; 

No  brother  came  to  bid  him  place  his  confi 
dence  on  high ; 

No  worldling  gazed  with  awe-filled  mien  "  to 
see  a  Christian  die." 


But  in  the  gloom  of  forest- ways  by  fleet  hoof 

seldom  trod 
The  lone  man  faced  his  foe,  alone,  and  sank  on 

stranger-sod :  .  - 


IN     SIGHT     OF     HEAVEN.  69 

He  had  forded  one  wide  river,  it  was  dark, 

and  deep,  and  cold ; 
Another  and  a  mightier  across  his  pathway 

rolled. 


Alone  ?  ah  no  !  for  angel-friends  around  him 

came  and  stood 
To  watch  that  calm  death-duel  fought  beneath 

the  leafless  wood ; 
To  see  those  stiffening  fingers  their  triumphant 

record  trace 
And    the    martyr-light    of    gladness    pierce 

through  pallor  of  his  face. 


Alone  ?  ah  no  !   in  closer  grasp  than  mother's 

fondest  hold, 
The  Lord  of  Life  and  Death  received  that  soul 

to  bliss  untold. 


TO  IN     SIGHT     OP     HEAVEN. 

There  was  no  need  of  human  help  when  Christ 

could  ease  the  chill, 
And  gently  touch  the  throbbing  breast,  and 

bid  the  pulse  be  still. 


Bright  is  the   sunset  splendor  thrown   from 

many  a  dying  bed, 
And  eloquent  the  influence  of  all  the  saintly 

dead — 
Far  down  the  turbid  waves  of  Time  those  rays 

will  burn  and  beam, 
As    lighted    pinnace   launched    by  night   on 

Oriental  stream. 


Sea-curtains  veil  the  sleep  of  some,  and  graves 

on  heathen  strand 
Will  hear  as  soon  the  trump  of  God  as  graves 

in  Father-land. 


IN     SIGHT     OF     HEAVEN.  l 

Yet  dwell  the  parting  words  of  none  more 

sweetly  on  mine  ear 
Than  the  death-sign  made  in  silence  by  this 

lonely  Pioneer. 


And  thus,  oh  slothful  heart  of  mine  !  if  thou 
wert  also  found 

Dauntless  in  labor  for  thy  Lord,  though  drear- 
ness  abound — 

Linked  to  His  heart  with  bands  of  love,  by 
death  or  life  unriven, 

Thou  too  wouldst  wait  for  dying  grace,  and 
live  "  in  sight  of  heaven." 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  TEMPLE. 

1  KINGS,  chap,  vi.,  v.  7. 


SILENCE  !  the  Fane  of  Jehovah  is  rising, 
Calm  in  its  splendor,  each  stone  like  a  gem  : 

Silence  !  no  hammer  may  fall,  advertising 
All  the  long  labor  on  Earth's  Diadem. 

Softly,  yet  swiftly,  unmarred  by  one  hap-stone, 
Springs  the  tall  fabric,  till  cedar  and  gold 

Wind  o'er  its  surface  from  corner  to  cap-stone, 
Mirror  the  sunlight  in  every  fair  fold. 

Walls  !  in  your  glory  and  fragrance  so  gentle, 
Skill  of  slave- Afreet,  through  amulet  sought 


THE    BUILDING     OF     THE    TEMPLE.       73 

Doubtless  in  sea-cave,  hath  carved  you  as  rental, 
Winning  brief  freedom,  for  Solomon  wrought. 

Nay.     By  long  patience  the  marbles  were  quar 
ried, 

Each  with  a  mallet  no  veinings  might  foil ; 
Stroke  fell  on  stroke,  to  their  home  until  car 
ried, 
Perfect  at  last  through  the  magic  of  Toil. 

Thus  while  our  King  this  true  Temple  is  rear 
ing; 

Silence  enshrouds  it.     In  chambers  apart 
Sorrow  and  Pain  with  keen  chisel  are  clearing 

Each  for  fit  lodgment  some  desolate  heart. 

What  if  that  heart;  full  of  grief  and  self-loath 
ing, 

Lie  'neath  their  shaping  in   darkness  and 
dread, 


74      THE    BUILDING     OF     THE     TEMPLE. 

Gladness  awaiteth  it ;  cedary  clothing, 
Glimmer  of  gold  shall  its  form  overspread. 

Yea,  though  we  see  not  the  glory  now  working, 
Soon  shall  God's  temple  shine  forth  in  its 

strength ; 

Shrink  not  from  touch  of  the  chisel,  lest  shirk 
ing 
Pain,  thou  lose  also  the  brightness  at  length. 


IF  ALL  ALONG  OUR  EARTHLY  WAY. 


IF  all  along  our  earthly  way, 
,  No  warmth,  or  brightness  fell, 
But  Grief  kept  with  us  day  by  day, 

From  morn  to  midnight  bell — 
And  yet  at  last  the  dawning  light 
Of  Heaven's  full  splendor  fringed  Earth's 

night,— 

Who  could  say  aught  of  cross  or  blight 
Save — "  All  was  ordered  well  ?" 

But  now,  though  every  mournful  year 
Seem  strewn  with  loss  and  pain, 

As  woodland  walk  when  leaves  lie  sere, 
Yet  hath  it  herbs  of  gain — 


76  IF     ALL   ALONG,     ETC. 

Like  evergreens  to  front  the  gale ' 
Else  Faith  and  Hope,  and  on  the  trail 
Eed  foot-prints  of  our  Lord  we  hail — 
Each  mile  makes  less  remain. 

4ft-    ' 

No  needless  grief  lies  in  His  plan — 
No  wanton  prick  of  thorn  ; 

He  was  on  earth  a  sorrowing  Man, 
By  toil  and  travel  worn. 

Up  !  laggard  heart — and  praises  lift — 

True  good  from  seeming  evil  sift ; 

Life  hath  no  storm,  nor  blinding  drift, 
But  with  Him  may  be  borne  ! 


BURIED  IN  JERUSALEM. 

The  only  son  of  a  wealthy  Catholic  family,  left  motherless  while  an 
infant,  was  educated,  together  with  a  sister  but  one  year  older,  in  rigid 
adherence  to  the  Roman  faith.  Yet  even  in  early  childhood,  he  refused 
to  repeat  the  Paternosters  often  enjoined  as  a  penance,  and  would  ask, 
"What  is  the  use  of  my  saying  those  words  over  when  I  don't  want 
to?  God  will  not  hear  me,  I'm  sure.  It  is  not  prayer,  unless  I  really 
want  to  pray."  And  rather  than  yield,  he  would  patiently  bear  soli 
tude,  with  bread  and  water. 

When  about  twelve  he  was  placed  in  a  Jesuit  school,  more  than  two 
hundred  miles  distant  from  his  home.  Quickly  disgusted  with  its  cus 
toms,  he  contrived,  with  equal  ingenuity  and  daring,  to  escape,  and 
made  his  way  afoot  to  his  father,  who,  although  desirous  for  these  chil 
dren  to  be  trained  into  good  Catholics,  was  himself  but  a  lax  one.  Re 
monstrance  from  him,  threats  from  other  relatives,  and  the  cajolery  of 
his  frightened  teachers,  were  alike  vain.  Go  back  the  boy  would  not. 
"  If  you  insist  on  my  going,  papa,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  have  to  run 
away  again ;  only  instead  of  coming  to  you,  I  must  go  to  some  place 
where  no  Jesuit  can  hunt  me  out,  and  you  will  never  see  me  again. 
They  talk  smoothly  enough  to  you,  and  promise  fairly  ;  but  if  you 
knew  as  much  as  I  do  about  their  deceitful  ways,  you  would  sooner 
kill  me  than  let  one  of  them  come  near  rne."  The  father  wisely  yielded. 
The  son  grew  up  under  happier  influences — a  young  man  of  great 
promise,  and  of  most  winning  disposition.  Just  as  he  had,  with  a 
tutor,  made  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  was  expected  home,  where  every 
preparation  to  celebrate  his  coming  of  age  had  been  completed,  he  died 
in  the  Holy  Land,  of  fever,  and  was  buried  in  Jerusalem.  The  shock 
to  his  sister  was  so  severe,  that  she  went  at  once  into  a  convent. 


HOME  rejoicings  all  are  ready, 
Planned  for  welcome  of  the  heir, 


BURIED     IN     JERUSALEM. 

(And  hilarious  voices  eddy 

Through  the  cool  soft  English  air,) 
Home  from  Tyrian 
Sands,  and  Syrian 
Fatal  noon-shafts  smiting  now 
On  his  broad,  ingenuous  brow. 

How  will  joy  the  brown  cheek  dimple, 
Gladness  flash  from  bright  blue  eyes, 
While  for  Eastern  veil  and  wimple, 
Smile  of  sister  he  descries  ! 
When  hath  newer 
Love  been  truer 

Than  the  sister's  and  the  brother's 
Who  have  never  known  a  mother's  ? 

Ah  !  while  her  fond  eyes  are  holding 

Lengthened  vigils  to  devise 
Warmth  of  welcome,  his  are  folding 

Calmly,  'neath  Judean  skies  : 


BURIED     IN     JERUSALEM.  79 

There  they  laid  him — 

None  could  aid  him — 
None  the  cruel  death- wave  stem  : 
Burying  in  Jerusalem. 

And  the  sunlight  is  as  pleasant 
On  sea-path  of  hurrying  keel, 
As  the  wish  of  guest  and  peasant 
Would  on  festal  morning  feel ; 
News  for  wailing 
Unavailing 

Though  her  swift  sails  waft  to  them, 
"  Buried  in  Jerusalem/' 

And  they  weep, — but  woe  far  deeper 

Dashes  with  each  gasping  breath 
O'er  her  soul,  who  for  the  sleeper 

Watch'd  with  love  more  strong  than  death. 
Doubt  assails  her, 
Faith  nigh  fails  her, 


80  BURIED      IN     JERUSALEM. 


Maddening  fears  his  future  hern — 
"  Buried  in  Jerusalem." 


Large  her  love,  her  judgment  weakly, 

While  the  priesthood's  will  was  strong  ; 
And  she  bowed  o'er  missal  meekly, 
Trained  in  self- negation  long  ; 
Heavenward  sending 
Prayers  unending 
For  her  heart's  one  priceless  gem, 
"  Buried  in  Jerusalem." 

Are  we  sure  his  youthful  lightness 
Cared  not  for  a  Saviour's  love  ? 
Must  Earth's  bloom  keep  out  the  brightness 
Of  Jerusalem  above  ? 

Mirth's  sweet  laughing 
Mar  the  engraffing 
Of  Heaven's  fruit  on  that  frail  stem, 
"  Buried  in  Jerusalem  ?" 


BURIED     IN     JERUSALEM.  81 

Truthful  lips  that  would  not  mutter 

For  a  penance,  unfelt  prayer, 
Learned  they  not  the  truths  which  flutter 
Even  yet  in  Syrian  air  ? 
Did  he  wander 
There,  nor  ponder 
On  the  Plant  of  Bethlehem 
"  Buried  in  Jerusalem  ?" 

Could  that  fiery  heart,  escaping' 

Early  from  the  Jesuit's  rein, 
Loathing  every  lie-fraught  aping 
Of  God's  service,  sought  for  gain — 
So  have  dwindled 
That  it  kindled 

Naught,  save  embers  of  dull  phlegm, 
Gazing  on  Jerusalem  ? 

Nay  !  the  Holy  Land  is  haunted 
Still  by  presence  of  the  Lord  ; 


82  BURIED      IN     JERUSALEM. 

Birds  through  whom  He  taught  have  chanted 
His  pure  lessons  while  they  soared  ; 

Palmers  dying 

Traced  their  flying — 
Worshipped  One  who  rose,  like  them, 
Sky- ward  from  Jerusalem. 

Thus,  in  loving  Hands  we  leave  him, 

Hands  that — wiser  far  than  we — 
Longed  a  deathless  crown  to  weave  him, 
And  from  death-nails  would  not  flee  : 
Hands  whose  Mightful 
Kule  is  rightful — 
His,  who  came  not  to  condemn  ! — 
"  Buried  in  Jerusalem." 


ROSE-W.ATER   SURQEEY." 


11  GREAT  furnace  for  great  faith/'  So  spake  my 

friends, 
When  surging  flames  of  trial  round  me 

rose  : 

"  G-od  hath  especial  jewels,  and  on  those 
"He  would  make  brightest,  longest  toil  ex 
pends"—- 
And,  "  Sorrow's  filing  clearer  luster  lends 

"  To  the  true  diamond ;  with  each  rasping 

grows 
"Her  power  of  flashing  back  prismatic 

glows"— 
Ah  loving  words  1  which  soul  more  loving  senda 


84          "KOSE- w ATEII    SUKGEKY." 

To  cheer  the  mourner.     But  my  spirit  sank 
Within  me  while  I  heard  them.   'Conscience 

knew 
My  patient    smiling  veiled  a  will  that 

shrank 

In  vain  impatience  from  the  cup  I  drank. 
Yon  high  consolings  suit  a  saintly  few 
Made  meet  for  Heaven.     Of  me  they  are  not 
true  1 


PKOBINO. 


MUCH  had  I  pondered  o'er  the  intricate  way 
Whereby  I  travelled,  deeming  one  so  weak 
More  needed  velvet  sward  and  runnels  meek 
Than  crag  and  torrent,  till  I  chanced  one  day 
On  a  wise  man's  experience,  wont  to  say 

"  Not  always  do  deep  battle-scars  bespeak 
"The  warriors  who   for    Heaven's  high 

laurels  seek ; 
"  Often  in  forefront  of  the  hottest  fray 

"  God  sets  His  greatest  cowards,  whence 

to  fly 

"  Were  hopeless  ruin— they  must  fight  or 
die!" 


86  PROBING. 

Eough  yet  true  teaching — proven  to  pay  cost. 
I  feel  the  war- waves  dash — my  death-doom 

nigh. 

Oh  Lord  and  Marshal  of  thy  martyr-host. 
Nerve  Thou  my  recreant  soul,  or  I  am  lost  I 


TO    A    SPIKITUALIST. 


0  FRIEND  !     Our  Father  doubtless  hath  fair 

gardens 

Beyond  the  walls  we  see  ; 
With  restful  glades,  and  souls  we  love  for 

wardens, 
But — HE  hath  kept  the  key. 


And  yet  hath  told  us,  star-bright  angels  hover 
(Though  with  unvoiced  name)* 

Around  our  ways,  and  our  weak  warfare  cover 
With  shield  and  sword  of  flame. 

*  Judge*  siii.  18. 


88  TO     A     SPIBITTJALIST 

Thus  when  our  changeful  time  another  teach 
ing 

Would  through  old  charms  enthral 
'Neath  a  new  tree  of  knowledge,  widely  reach 
ing 
With  fruit  and  songs  for  all ; — 


That  rosy  rind  for  me  hides  core  of  ashes : 

The  song-notes  I  have  heard 
Stir  not  my  soul,  as  when  true  heart-fire  flashes 

Forth  from  the  Master's  Word. 


Fain — till  His  love  the  flow  of  anguish  stanches, 

When  our  beloved  flee, 

Fain  would  we  follow  where  each  frail  raft 
launches 

Far  on  the  Eternal  Sea  ! 


TO     A     SPIRITUALIST.  89 

Fain  would  we  hear  their  new-found  joy  out- 
gushing 

In  Heaven's  triumphant  psalms, 
And  feel  a    fragrance    round   our    foreheads 

rushing 
Fann'd  from  their  deathless  palms  ! 


Yet, — by  the  Way  of  Life,  erewhile  so  narrow 

Lies  there  this  sunken  fence  ? 
Falls  the  Bright  Shaft  of  God  an  aimless  arrow, 

Foiled  by  our  finer  sense  ? 


Need  we  no  more  the  Immortal  intercession, 

The  Sinless  life-drops  shed  ? 
Led  on  through  spheres  of  light  in  far  pro 
gression, 

By  spirits  of  our  Dead — 
8* 


90  TO     A     SPIKITTT  ALIST. 

Our  ransomed  Dead,  who  clasped  the  Cross  in 

dying 

With  else  despairing  clutch  ; 
And  felt  a  Strong  Eight  Arm  beneath  them 


His  —  whom  they  loved  so  much  — 


The  long,  long  line  of  souls  who  have  not 
faltered 

From  rack  or  fiery  crown, 
But  held  in  love  the  One  True  Faith  unaltered, 

Let  Queen  or  Kaiser  frown. 


Have  all  returned,  the  cheerless  rumor  brino-i 

f  O 

That  clasp  and  faith  were  vain  ? 
With  a  wild  dissonance  of  voices  singing 
Each  some  untuneful  strain  ? 


TO     A     SPI  RITALIST.  91 

Nay — the  old  Spring  by  Beth-le-hem's  Gate 
up-welling 

Thought's  vexing  fever  cools 
More  than  a  haze  of  myriad  rain-drops  swelling 

What  may  be  mirage-pools. 


And  though  Our  Father  doubtless  hath  fair 
gardens 

Beyond  the  walls  we  see  ; 
Till  in  good  pleasure  He  unvail  their  wardens, 

We  will  not  crave  the  key. 


AN    INCIDENT 


"  GRIEVE  not,  love/'  a  mother  said, 
"  If  some  morning,  in  my  bed 
Gazing,  thou  sliould'st  find  me  dead. 


"  Grieve  not,  daughter,  if  at  night 
Dons  my  soul  her  robe  of  light — 
Through  Eedeeming  love  made  white  ; 

"  Mine  this  plea  of  boding  fear, 
Urged  through  many  a  prayerful  year, 
'  While  I  sleep,  may  Death  draw  near  !' 

"  Not  because  'twere  sad  to  go 
From  thy  side,  best-loved  below  ! — 
Whom  I  have  believed,  I  know  ; 


AN     INCIDENT.  93 

"  And  His  love,  through  love's  sweet  law, 
Since  its  rich  depths  first  I  saw, 
All  my  love  hath  power  to  drawl 

"  But  should  lingering  Death  unlink 
Slowly  all  Earth's  chains,  I  think 
Flesh  must  quiver — Faith  must  sink. 

"  Doubtless,  He  who  knows  my  frame, 
In  night-watches  oft  who  came, 
Will  in  east- wind  rough-wind  tame, — 

"  Seal  mine  eyes  from  deathly  cares — 
Place  me — granting  life-long  prayers — 
Among  angels  unawares." 

Thus  the  dreamer.     Ah  !  not  so 
Would  her  Lord  His  glory  show, 
Blindfold  home  she  might  not  go. 


AN     INCIDENT. 

Not  in  slumber's  silence  bound, 
Hath  her  prayer  its  guerdon  found, — 
Is  the  unconscious  victor  crowned. 

Through  long  months  of  lingering  pain, 
Pangs  of  body,  heart  and  brain, 
Sadly,  slowly,  life  must  wane. 

Lava-like,  the  death-blow  crept 
O'er  Hope's  vineyard,  yet  she  kept 
Patient  watch  the  while,  nor  wept. 

One  who  drinks  delicious  wine 
From  the  press  of  fruits  divine, 
Grapes  of  earth  may  well  resign. 

Arms  whose  strength  tried  wrestler  knows 
Mighty  against  myriad  foes, 
'Neath  that  timorous  heart  uprose  : 


AN     INCIDENT.  95 


In  the  last  hour,  feared  so  long, 
Faith,  thus  held,  grew  eagle-strong, 
And  her  soul  passed  home  in  song. 


"APPEAR  NOT  UNTO  MEN  TO  FAST." 

MATT.,  chap,  vi.,  v.  18. 


NOT  alone  from  food  when  fasting, 

Shun  the  look  of  proud  Essene  ; 
Famine  of  the  soul,  more  lasting, 

Vail  thou,  too,  'neath  smiles  serene, 
Mutely,  when  thy  sorrows  darken, 

Keep  them  for  a  Saviour's  eye, 
Nor  in  haunts  where  man  may  hearken, 

Loosen  from  thy  heart  one  cry. 

How  may  friends  with  woe  unladed, 
Lift  thy  burthen,  soothe  thy  moan  ? 

Let  not  Christ's  love  seem  upbraided 
Through  keen  plaints  of  souls,  His  own  ! 


APPEAR  NOT  UNTO  MEN  TO  FAST.   97 

Would'st  thou  still  the  ceaseless  craving 
For  some  dear  voice,  silent  now  ? 

Think  !  the  grief  whose  sharp  engraving 
Seams  thy  forehead,  marked  His  brow  ! 

Well  He  notes  each  keen  incision 

Views  thy  heart-stripes,  roughly  scored, 
And  reserves  the  open  vision 

Of  His  love  for  thy  reward  ! 
Soon,  from  rock  of  memories  bitter, 

At  His  Word  will  fountains  burst ; 
And  their  rills  by  sand-paths  glitter, 

Quenching  even  long  love-thirst. 

Is  thy  fast  in  lonelier  fashion 

Kept  beneath  a  leaden  cloud, 
'Twixt  thy  prayers  and  His  compassion, 

Drifting,  with  wierd  face  endowed  ? 
Tell  not  loss  of  light  so  treasured 

To  the  world  in  loud  lament ; 
9 


98   APPEAR  NOT  UNTO  MEN  TO  FAST. 

Lest  it  scoff — "  Thy  Grod  hath  measured 
Cup  that  yields  not  my  content." 

Gem  of  cost  He  counts  the  pleading 

Sacred  to  His  ear  alone — 
While  His  loving  Prescience,  reading 

How  thy  faith  subdues  each  groan — 
With  dark  thoughts  declines  to  palter, — 

Leaves  His  ordering  imarraigned — 
Will,  at  length,  mute  patience  alter 

Into  smiles  of  peace  unfeigned. 


OCEAN    BLOSSOMS. 


Sent  with  a  volume  of  pressed  seaweeds  to  a  Missionary  kinsman  in 
Btirmah. 


Eoses  and  lilies  are  fair  to  view, 

But  roses  and  lilies  fade — • 
The  daffodil  loses  her  golden  hue, 

The  violet  wilts  in  the  shade, 
And  the  hare-bell  revels  in  light  and  dew, 

On  the  heath  where  her  clan  have  decayed. 

Dimmer  of  outline,  and  duller  far 
Though  the  fragile  sea-flowers  be, 

Though  tangles  and  gravel  their  beauty  mar 
And  they  float  where  so  few  may  see 

How  the  Deep  hath  mosses  that  delicate  are 
As  the  daintiest  growth  of  the  lea  ; 


100  OCEAN     BLOSSOMS. 

Yet  they  crave  but  a  cleansing  from  meaner  things, 

Ere  the  fairy-like  waifs  unfold 
In  a  thousand  fibres  and  flexile  rings, 

Crimson,  and  brown,  and  gold  ; 
While  each  to  the  leafs  white  surface  clings 

With  an  unrelaxing  hold. 

So  hast  thou  seen  on  the  heathen  shore, 

Many  a  spirit  lie, 
Darkened  with  evil  encrusting  o'er 

Hopes  of  as  rich  a  dye, 
As  thine  own  eyes  view  when  they  meekly  pore 

O'er  the  promise  of  life  on  high. 

So,  too,  from  sands  of  its  native  lair, 

Lifted  with  loving  hand, 
Patiently  tended  in  faith  and  prayer, 

Shall  the  human  flower  expand, 
Till  it  rivals  in  tissue  and  coloring  rare 

The  bloom  of  a  happier  land. 


OCEAN     BLOSSOMS.  101 

And  it  will  not  wither.     The  rose  we  spoil 
When  her  stem  from  the  root  we  sever ; 
But  the  souls  thooi  art  winning  through  tears 

and  toil, 

By  decaying  grieve  thee  never : 
In  the  Book  of  Life  they  are  safe  from  soil, 
And  their  loveliness  lasts  for  ever. 
9* 


SABBATHS    AT    HOME 


G-LAD  bells  announce  the  coming 

Of  a  holy  Sabbath-time, 
Yet  bring  the  thought  benumbing 

For  me  they  do  not  chime. 
Ah  !  not  for  me  the  blessing 

In  God's  own  Temple  heard, 
By  lowly  hearts  confessing 

How  widely  they  have  erred. 

Ye  fleece-clouds  floating  o'er  us  ! 

Above  you  songs  ascend 
In  earth's  encircling  chorus, 

To  Earth's  One  Glorious  Friend. 


SABBATHS     AT     HOME.  103 

Youth  in  His  Love  rejoices, 
While  children  lisp  the  praise 

That  swells  from  manly  voices, 
And  ancients  full  of  days. 


Yet  grieve  we  for  the  scoffers, 

Who  scorn  Him  and  deride — 
Or  from  His  loving  proffers 

For  world-lures  turn  aside. 
For  tares  shall  wheat  encumber, 

Till  the  MiUennial  Song 
From  lips  no  tongue  may  number, 

Eise  and  reverberate  long. 


O  !  lovely,  lovely  vision 
Of  the  Redeemer's  reign  ! 

Swaying  to  meek  submission 
Each  heart  as  well  as  fane — 


104  SABBATHS     AT     HOME. 

Bidding  a  rainbow  glisten 
Through  every  gathering  tear, 

While  for  our  Lord  we  listen, 
And  deem  His  Chariot  near. 


What  if  the  weary  chastening 
Which  holds  us  far  away 

From  service,  should  be  hastening 
That  pledged  Possession-Day  ! 

The  faith  and  patience  proven 
In  many  a  lonely  room, 

* 

Be  silver  threads  inwoven 
With  glory  in  His  Loom  ! 


And  painful  though  our  severance 

From  Zion's  holy  Hill, 
Yet  bowing  low  in  reverence 

Before  the  righteous  Will. 


SABBATHS     AT     HOME.  105 

A  sense  of  Christ's  dear  Presence 

May  on  the  desert  bare 
Fall;  with  diviner  essence 

Than  erst  in  place  of  prayer. 


Yea !  if  the  Dismal  Valley 

To  dreary  prescience  ope, 
One  thought  anew  should  rally 

Our  half-exhausted  hope, 
And  gleam  as  dove- wings  given 

To  lift  some  grovelling  gnome — 
"  Our  Sabbath-hours  in  Heaven 

"  Witt  all  be  spent  at  Home  !" 


THEY  WENT  AND  TOLD  JESUS. 

St.  Matt.,  chap,  xiv.,  v.  12. 


Go  and  tell  Jesus,  when  thine  eye  hath  seen 
Dear  hopes  beheaded  by  the  Tyrant,  Death, 

When  reeds  thou  lovest  pierce  the  hands  that 

lean — 
Hear  what  He  saith. 


Go  and  tell  Jesus.     In  the  Gulf  of  Thought 
Alone,    oh    dive    not !     lest   such    root  of 
bale 

For  pearls  thou  gather,  as  the  Fisher  brought 
In  Eastern  tale. 


THEY     WENT     AND     TOLD     JESUS.      107 

Go  and  tell  Jesus.      Turn  each  thought  to 

prayer — 
Nor    smite   frail    crystal,  where    thy  rehel 

Will 

Cast  by  His  word  of  power  in  ocean  lair 
Lies  wan  and  still. 

Go  and  tell  Jesus.      Should'st  thou  yield  it 

way, 

Soon  would  the  daring  Essence  upward  loom 
And    o'er  thy  cringing    heart  hold    ruthless 

sway 
From  tower  of  gloom. 

Go  and  tell  Jesus,  if  from  word  arisen, 
In  some  weak  moment  forth  one  murmur 
steal, 

He  can  the  Giant-slave  anew  imprison 
With  kingly  seal. 


108      THEY     WENT     AND     TOLD     JESUS. 

Go  and  tell  Jesus.     In  His  Wisdom  lie 

All  stores  of  solace.     When  rude  gales  in 
crease, 

Ask,  and  His  Love  shall  pour  on  passions  high 
The  oil  of  peace. 


AWAKE,  THOU  THAT  SLEEPEST. 

"  "We  are  less  dazzled  by  the  light  on  awaking,  if  we  have  been 
dreaming  of  visible  otjectsi"— NOVALIS. 


SUNLIGHT  unbroken  is  flooding  the  room, 
Love's  blessed  token,  it  banishes  gloom  ; 
Sleep  is  enchaining  thee  late  in  the  day, 
Friends  are  arraigning  thee.    Rise,  nor  delay  ! 

Hast  thou  been  dreaming  of  night  scenes  dark, 
With  no  starlight  gleaming  on  the  •wave-sprung 

bark? 
Then  the  splendors  prevailing  will  dazzle  thy 

sight 
Through  their  fullness  entailing  a  reflex  of 

night. 

10 


110     AWAKE,    THOU    THAT    SLEEPEST. 

Were  thy  dreams  of  the  lustre  that  dwells  at 

noon 

"Where  vine  leaves  cluster  o'er  calm  lagoon  ? 
Then,    though  landscape  aerial  must  vanish 

away, 

Will  its  colors  ethereal  "blend  well  with  full 
.day. 


And  refreshed  through  thy  slumber,  now  may'st 

.  thou  rise 

With  no  film  to  cumber  unblenching  eyes. 
Let  the  sloth  in  his  dullness  grope  dimly  along — 
In  the  strength  of  thy  usefulness  thou  wilt  be 
strong  I 


Thus,  when  thou    art    musing  on  heavenly 

things, 
And  thy  heart's  accusing  a  tremor  brings, 


AWAKE,    THOU    THAT    SLEKPE8T.     Ill 

Or   a  prescient  self-pity,  at  thought  of  that 

hour 
When  the  Jasper-walled  City,  with  pearl-gate 

and  tower, 


Bears  earthward  the  saintly  in  holiness  white, 
Lest  thy  blurred  vision  faintly  shrink  far  from 

that  Light 
Lest  taint  of  long  sinning   hang   darkly  on 

thee, 
And  hold  thee  from  winning  the  glories  to  be. 


Then  lift,  like  an  eagle,  thy  gaze  on  high ; 
Can   low  dreams    inveigle    the  heaven-drawn 

eye? 

Kay  !  rise  and  determine  on  earth  to  seek 
For  the  stainless  ermine  of  spirits  meek. 


112     AWAKE,    THOU    THAT    S  L  E  E  P  E  S  T. 

On  that  robe,  Christ-woven,  no  fret  or  soil 

Will,  by  Heaven's  light  cloven,  work  heart- 
recoil — • 

Fold  thee  now  in  its  whiteness  !  so  Death  shall 
bring 

But  familiar  brightness  of  Home  and  King  ! 


THE    APOSTLES'    CREED. 


IN  a  cavern  of  Judea,  so  the  old  traditions 
run, 

"Were  the  twelve  apostles  gathered.  Stars 
shine  forth  when  day  is  done. 

And  that  glorious  constellation  rose  when  van 
ished  Christ,  the  sun. 

Pleiad   twin-group,  soon   to   scatter  where  a 

darkened  world  had  need, 
Bid  a  host  of  Helot  nations  in  the  Light  of 

Truth  be  freed, 
And  the  hearts  of  millions  mingle  in  their  own 

immortal  Creed. 

10* 


114         THE    APOSTLES'    CEEED. 

"  I  believe  in  Grod  the  Father,"  first  from  mouth 

of  Peter  fell- 
Mouth  whose  tremulous  denial  one  Almighty 

look  could  quell, 

And  all  fear  of  priest  or  Pilate  from  once-quail 
ing  heart  expel. 

Now  his  faith  for  aye  emboldened  through  re 
membrance  of  that  look, 

"  Heaven  and  Earth,  and  Him  their  Maker," 
in  its  far  embracing  took — 

Nor  Sanhedrim-scourge  fast-falling  for  an  hour 
its  firmness  shook. 

Well  might  meek  St.  Andrew  answer,  "  I  be 
lieve  in  Christ  our  Lord" — 

He  who  left  the  great  Fore-runner,  and  Mes 
siah  first  adored — 

Who,  when  cross-bound,  spake  of  Jesus  till 
his  soul  to  glory  soared. 


THE     APOSTLES'      CREED.  115 

"  Through  the  Holy  Grhost  conceived,  and  of 

Mary,  Virgin-born  ;" 
Witnessed  one  who  saw  dim  vesture  by  the 

Man  of  Sorrows  worn, 
With  a  clear  snow-brightness  glisten,  like  fair 

Lebanon  at  morn. 

Since  that  vision,  payi  and  sorrow,  and  all  pass 
ing  trials  seem 

With  unearthly  joy  transfigured,  through  its 
ever-lucent  beam — 

Eound  King  Herod's  steel  of  vengeance  soon  in 
halo-light  to  gleam. 

"  Under  Pontius  Pilate  suffered,  and  at  length 
was  crucified," 

Saith  disciple  loved  of  Jesus,  who,  long  watch 
ing  near  His  side, 

Saw  from  spear-thrust  blood  and  water  issue 
forth  in  blending  tide. 


116  THE     APOSTLES'     CREED. 

From  that  school  of  fearful  anguish  came  the 

lesson,  "  God  is  love  !" 
Still  on  chaos-deep  of  sorrow  broods  for  ever 

that  bright  dove  ! 
"God  is  Love  !"  glad  song-burst,  chorused  still 

through  hierarchs  above  1 

Philip  then,  for  God's  sight  longing,  "  He  de 
scended  into  hell," 

Among  spirits  of  the  faithful  till  "the  third 
day,"  gone  to  dwell ; 

Then  a  Paschal  Moon  beheld  Him  "  rise  again" 
from  rocky  cell. 

"  He  ascended  into  Heaven." — As  the  brother 

of  our  Lord 
Said,  "At  God's  right  hand  He  sitteth,"  thro' 

his  heart  what  memories  poured 
Of  the  Holy  Child's  meek  wisdom  while  at 

Galilean  board  ! 


THE    APOSTLES'    CREED.        11Y 

"And  from  thence  again  He  cometh  as  the 

Judge  of  quick  and  dead" — 
Faintest  speck  of  doubt  now  sullies  not  the 

glow  on  Thomas  shed 
From  bright  scar  of  spear-and-nail  wounds  in 

his  faithless  view  outspread. 

Then  Bartholomew  the  guileless — "I  believe 

in  the  Holy  Ghost :" 
He  had  seen  the  blue  skies  open,  the  ascending 

angel-host, 
And  the  cloven  flames  that  bickered  through 

high  noon  of  Pentecost. 

Next  the  whilom  son  of  traffic,  chosen  now  for 
Gospel-scribe, — 

"  In  One  Holy  Church,"  enfolding  hearts  re 
deemed  from  every  tribe, 

"In  communion  of  the  saintly" — while  they 
pray  or  praise  ascribe. 


118  HE    APOSTLES'    CREED. 

Then  St.  Simon — "In  forgiveness  of  all  sins" 

through  Jesus'  name. 
Soon  by  force  of  that  fond  message,  he  forgave 

both  scorn  and  blame, 
Praying  long  for  cruel  Persians,  who  to  crucify 

him  came. 

"  In  the  body's  resurrection,"  spake  Matthias, 

"I  believe, 
Though  sharp  stones  crush  out  my  spirit,  and 

but  maimed  relics  leave, 
Thence  the  might  of  my  Redeemer  shall  a  form 

of  power  retrieve." 

"  And  in  Life — Life-everlasting,"  was  the  say 
ing  of  St.  Jude, 

Vainly  arrows  of  destruction,  in  his  heart's 
blood  soon  embrued, 

Would  arrest  one  hidden  pulsing  of  that  life 
through  Christ  renewed. 


THE    APOSTLES'    CREED.          119 

Then  the  holy  Twelve,  departing,  wandered 

forth  in  search  of  men, 
As  true   shepherds    seek    the    straying,   over 

mount  and  miry  fen, 
And  glad  voices  of  the  rescued,  through  all 

ages,  shout  "Amen." 


OLD    AUTHOKS. 


WHEN  youthful  squire  of  yore 

Paced  up  the  moon-lit  floor 
Of  dim  cathedral,  and  in  silence  prayed 

For  grace  to  hold  unstained 

Leal  faith  and  vow,  till  waned 
The  life  ennohled  by  near  accolade — 

Dreamed  he  of  camp-fire's  jest — 

Gray  revel — lengthened  quest 
Of  wild  adventure  for  his  knightly  brand  ? 

Could  thought  of  self  defile 

That  watch  in  holy  aisle, 
With  trophies  bannered,  won  in  Holier  Land  ? 


OLD     AUTHORS.  121 

Nay — from  crusading  tomb, 

Low  voices  pierced  the  gloom, 
Nerving  the  novice  unto  deeds  like  theirs  ; 

And  dint  of  Paynim  stroke 

On  ancient  visor  woke 
Dormant  soul-valor,  that  all  peril  dares. 

God's  vassals  we,  who  bow 

In  armor-vigil  now, 
Called  from  the  camp  of  life  in  early  prime 

To  hear,  through  long,  lone  hours, 

Death  knells  from  ivied  towers, 
And  ghostly  footfalls  move  in  crypts  of  Time. 

For  us,  it  may  be,  wait 
Bright  embassies  of  state, 
In  realms  of  glory  to  our  dreams  unknown, 
When  touch  of  Kingly  Hand 
At  dawn,  shall  bid  us  stand 

"\Vhere  stainless  heroes  ring  our  Monarch'sthrone. 
11 


122  OLD     AUTHORS. 

But  now,  the  night  is  drear, 
How  best  may  heart  find  cheer  ? 

With  gladsome  echoings  from  the  world  with 
out  ? 

Not  so — for  tumult  dies 
Down,  where  a  sufferer  sighs, 

As  chapel-doors  subdue  the  people's  shout. 

With  words  of  men  who  braved 
Long  toil — long  fears,  and  laved 

Their  wounded    souls  beside  deep  wells   of 

life— 

Who,  Faith's  ancestral  lords, 
Fought  on  through  demon-hordes, 

And  for  the  Cross  above  it,  hailed  the  knife  ? 

These  shall  our  sponsors  be— 
The  Truth  they  lived  makes  free, 
Soul-sparks  yet  kindle  from    that  deathless 
flint— 


OLD     AUTHORS.  123 

Nor  heart  in  fear  can  melt, 
Nor  loneliness  be  felt, 

While  viewing  on  their  mail  Hope's  moonlight 
glint. 

From  thoughts  in  anguish  penn'd 

Long-buried  saints  yet  send 
A  warmth  magnetic,  welding  life  with  life — 

And  still,  in  dreariest  hour, 

Each  clarion-phrase  hath  power 
To  brace  the  languid  soul  anew  for  strife. 


I  COUNT  ONLY  THE  HOUKS  THAT 
SHINE. 

INSCRIPTION   ON   A  FLORENTINE  SUN-DIAL. 


WHEN  first  the  morning  light  is  seen 
To  glimmer  on  the  dewy  green, 
And  make  the  spider's  filmy  net 
Like  a  bride's  veil  with  diamonds  set ; 
And  when  the  sun,  in  royal  state, 
Comes  where  cloud-courtiers  grouping  wait, 
His  beaming  smile  and  look  of  grace 
Given  back  from  each  attendant's  face  ; 
All  rosy  morning  hues  are  mine — 
"  I  only  count  the  hours  that  shine." 

When  the  same  sun  hath  mounted  high 
His  palace  stair-way  in  the  sky  ; 


I  ONLY  COUNT  THE  HOFKS,  ETC.  125 

When,  by  his  torrid  force  dismayed, 
Tired  cattle  seek  for  leafiest  shade, 
And  halls  of  marhle  fend  the  glare 
From  cheek  and  brow  of  ladye  fair  ; — 
0  !  then  to  me  how  dear  his  rays — 
No  cloud-roof  intercepts  my  gaze 
Upward  in  one  uncheckered  line  : 
"  I  only  count  the  hours  that  shine." 


At  evening,  upon  Arno's  stream, 

When  sun-glows  shed  their  parting  gleam, 

And  peasants  meet  for  dance  and  glee 

Beneath  the  branchful  ilex-tree, 

A  maiden  by  her  love  forsaken — 

A  harp  the  minstrel  will  not  waken — 

A  gathered  rose  flung  idly  by, 

Are  far  less  desolate  than  I  ; 

In  vain  the  starry  lamps  combine — 

"  I  only  count  the  hours  that  shine." 
11* 


126    I     ONLY     COUNT     THE     HOURS,     ETC. 

If  storms  are  gathering,  and  the  change 

Drift  darkly  down  from  mountain  range, 

While  in  thick  forests,  fertile  vales, 

All  my  beloved  sunshine  fails  : 

Then  through  long  hours  of  gloom  I  wait 

Till  furious  flood  and  gale  abate, 

Till  the  sun  breaks  o'er  Vallombrose — 

Warms  the  fair  plains  "  where  citron  grows," 

And  gilds  the  far-off  Apennine — 

"  I  only  count  the  hours  that  shine." 


Complainer  !  when  the  page  of  life 
Looks  with  black  lettering  mainly  rife  ; 
When  in  some  darling  vision  crost, 
Every  delight  of  Earth  seems  lost, 
Eeview  thy  ranks  of  peaceful  years, 
Unscarred  by  pain,  undimmed  by  tears  ; 
Number  the  mercies  that  are  left, 
Even  though  thou  feel  of  all  bereft, 


I  ONLY  COUNT  THE  HOURS,  ETC.  127 

And  let  the  dial  be  thy  sign — 

"I  only  count  the  hours  that  shine/' 


And  if  thy  soul,  with  anguish  fraught, 
Sink  sadly,  cheer  thee  with  the  thought 
How  soon  each  dusky  sail  will  clear 
In  Heaven's  unshadowed  atmosphere  ! 
Thou  wilt  remember  all  the  love 
Which  led  thee  to  thy  home  above  ; 
Thou  wilt  forget  the  trials  here 
That  overcast  thy  short  career  ; 
And  sing,  safe-moored  in  Port  Divine — 
"  I  only  count  the  hours  that  shine  !" 


WEEPING  MAY  ENDURE  FOR  A  NIGHT,  BUT 
JOY  COMETH  IN  THE  MORNING. 


WE  lavish,  thought  and  prayer  on  those 
Bowed  low  by  grief,  like  guelder-rose 
When  hailstones  through  her  garden-home  are 

sweeping ; 

Mute  from  our  very  awe,  behold 
The  lightning's  work  on  dewy  fold 
Of  hearts  ere  while   in   warmth   of  summer 
sleeping. 

Longs  soul  of  friend,  that  shallow  urn, 
Thus  to  yield  solace  ?     How  must  yearn 

Our  Lord's  deep  Heart  of  Love  when  saints 

are  weeping  ! 

He  whose  Creative  Breath  first  gave 
Flowers  unto  Earth,  each  tear  will  save, 

And  smile  it  to  a  pearl  in  Heaven's  sure  keeping. 


TO  THE  SUBTERRANEAN  RIVER  IN  THE 
MAMMOTH  CAVE  OF  KENTUCKY. 


EIVEK,  sad  Eiver  !  why  dost  thou  stay 
In  a  home  unenlivened  by  glimmer  of  day  ? 
Hast  thou  not  learnt  how  thy  sister  streams 
Move    in    the    Sun's    light    and    mirror    his 

beams  ? 
The   caverns   thou   threadest    are  chilly  and 

drear, 
Eiver,  sad  Eiver  !  what  dost  thou  here  ? 


Over  their  waters  gay  vessels  glide, 
Banners  gleam  white  as  the  gleaming  tide, 
Willows,  like  Naiads  by  clear,  cool  wave, 
Bow,  and  luxuriant  tresses  lave — 
But  no  royal  pinnace,  no  graceful  tree, 
Eiver,  sad  Eiver  !  is  glassed  in  thee. 


130      TO    THE    SUBTERRANEAN    RIVEB. 

Lightly  the  plashing  of  boatman's  oar 
Sounds  on  their  banks  when  he  rows  from  shore, 
Seen  in  the  moonlight  their  silvery  spray 
Glanceth  like  plumes  beneath  the  south- wind's 

sway — 

Thine  oars  waken  murmurs  of  sorrow  and  fear, 
River,  sad  River  1  what  dost  thou  here  ? 

Birds  in  then*  meadows  blithe  chorus  sing, 
And  May-buds  welcome  the  smile  of  spring, 
There  the  young  lambs  with  unweary  play 
Revel  through  Nature's  holiday — 
But  thou  hast  no  pastures  nor  fleecy  flocks— 
Tenant  of  lair  in  the  heart  of  rocks  ! 


Love's  last  token,  so  faintly  blue, 
Never  hath  drawn  thy  reviving  dew — 
And  the  spotless  lily,  that  maiden  queen- 
Spreads  on  thy  surface  no  tent  of  green. 


TO    THE    SUBTEKB  AN  JE  AN    RIVEB.      131 

Where  are  thy  rushes  and  waving  reeds, 
Linked  with  renown  of  heroic  deeds  ? 


No  stately  swan  o'er  thy  bosom  goes 

With  arched  neck  white  as  are  wintry  snows — 

No  fawn  with  lustrous  yet  timid  eyes 

Away  from  thy  margin  startled  flies, 

And  childhood's  voice,  in  its  morning  glee 

Eingeth  no  musical  notes  for  thee. 

River,  sad  Eiver,  why  wilt  thou  stay 
Banished  forever  from  vision  of  day  ? 
Break  the  strong  arch.es,  and  let  thy  path 
Eise  like  the  Sea  in  its  billowy  wrath- 
Soon  woulds't  thou  shiver  these  bonds  severe — 
Eiver,  sad  Eiver  !  oh,  linger  not  here  ! 


THE   BIVEB'S   KESPONSE. 


Tell  me,  if  my  caverns  drear 
Fill  thee  with  this  wondering  fear, 
Murmurer,  why  art  thou  here  ? 

Why  my  lonely  walls  thou  seekest 
When  through  fields  of  verdure  meekest 
Flow  the  waves  whereof  thou  speakest  ? 

If  the  music  thou  hast  heard 
Of  infant  voice  or  singing  bird 
Hath  thy  heart's  light  surface  stirred, 


THE    RIVEK'S    BESPONSE.  133 

Wherefore  list  my  sullen  moan, 

In  a  low  funereal  tone 

From  the  caves  beneath  me  thrown  ? 

Ah  !  the  sounds  that  o'er  me  roll, 
Answer,  with  far-vibrant  toll, 
To  the  deeps  within  thy  soul. 

And  no  foam  of  torrent  flashing 
Through  grim  notch — nor  angry  lashing 
Of  the  Sea  on  sand-hills  dashing — - 

Nor  the  Lake  in  quiet  vale 
Shimmering  under  moonbeams  pale, 
Linked  with  legendary  tale, 

Round  thy  soul,  with  tendrils  fine 
Though  their  marvels  loop  and  twine — 

None  shall  clasp  thee  firm  as  mine. 
12 


134        THE  KIVEK'S  BESPONSK-. 

Ere  youth's  joys  are  overcast, 
Barely  will  the  impression  last, 
Caught  from  bright  hues  hurried  past. 

But  meek  life  heneath  a  rod, 
Understood  of  none  save  God, 
Mirrors  mine,  in  halls  untrod. 

Here  because  my  Maker  wills ; 
And  this  rough  home  under  hills, 
His  wise  planning  best  fulfills. 

Never  will  I  quit  my  cell ; 
Nor  my  soul-bewildering  spell 
To  each  careless  zephyr  tell. 

'Tis  enough  that  all,  who  ever 
Sail  a-down  the  Lonely  Kiver, 
Shrine  me  in  their  souls  forever. 


THE    BOTTOMLESS    PIT 

IN    THE    MAMMOTH    CAVE    OF    KENTUCKY, 


WILD  way  !  and  wilder  chasm  ! 
Our  torch,  with  flickering  ray, 
Paints  many  a  wierd  phantasm 

On  massy  bowlders  gray ;  . 
And,  save  our  voices,  all  is  still 
As  hi  a  charnel-cavern  chill. 

A  tiny  cresset,  hung 

Across  the  unfathomed  deeps, 
And  slowly  downward  swung, 

With  glow-worm  lustre  creeps  ; 
While  rocks,  that  lie  in  giant  rest, 
Frown  on  their  unfamiliar  guest. 


136      THE     BOTTOMLESS     PIT,      ETC. 

Faith's  lamp,  with  quiet  glow, 
(When  all  beside  is  gloom), 
Too  faint  the  Past  to  show, 

The  Future  to  illume, 
Can  thus  all  needful  brightness  shed 
On  souls  through  vault  of  shadows  led. 

Though  scarce  one  gleam  may  fall 

On  griefs  of  vanished  days, 
Though  gloom  envelope  all 

Life's  yet  untravelled  maze — 
Move  calmly  on — thine  hourly  store 
Of  light  sufficeth — ask  no  more  J 


CRADLE    SINGING. 


"  So  war  es  mir  in  der  Wiege  gesungen,"  is  a  proverbial  expression 
for  destiny  in  the  north  of  Germany. 


MOON-BAYS  and  vine-leaves  light  and  shade 

were  sending 
Through  a  still  chamber.     There,  at  close  of 

day 

A  mother  saw  two  glorious  angels  bending 
Over  the  cradle  where  her  darling  lay. 

From  crimson  mist  one  form  looked  forth,  and 

gayly 

Swung  o'er  the  infant-brow  a  rosy  crown  : 
White  clouds  the  other  veiled,  and  mosses  daily 
Plucked  by  the  Cross,  her  thorn-leaf  made 

like  down. 

12* 


138  CEADLE     SINGING. 

"  Give  me  thy  child/'  sang  one,  "  oh  gentle 

mother  ! 

For  homes  I  haunt  no  sickening  fears  flit  by, 
None   with    feigned    mirth  a  silent    anguish 

smother — 
All  things  are  glad  and  fair  when  I  am  nigh. 

"  She  shall  be  glad  and  fair,  her  buoyance  win 
ning 

Smiles  from  the  saddest,  through  her  mirth- 
strewn  way  ; 
While  ills  that  others  feel,  like  fleece-clouds 

thinning 
At  sight  of  sunshine,  bring  her  brief  dismay. 

"Yield  her  to  me,  and  I,  with  pleasures  paving 

Her  future  path,  the  trust  will  truly  keep, 

And  sow  thick  germs  of  light,  whose  increase 

waving, 
Thou  in  glad  harvest  may'st  hereafter  reap." 


139 

Ceased  the  sweet  singing — and  another  measure 
Flowed  from  the  white-robed  form.    A  sense 

of  calm 
Came  with  the  sounds,  as  when  for  dearest 

treasure 
All  sobs  are  silenced  by  the  burial-psalm. 

"  Give  me  thy  babe,  and  though  my  name  be 

Sorrow, 
And  far  my  dwelling  from  the  haunts  of 

mirth, 
She  from  my  sterner  training  strength  shall 

borrow : 

'Tis  from  crushed  blossoms  richest  balms 
have  birth. 

"Tears  she   must  shed  alone  her  eyes  will 

meeten 

To    look    on  others'   pangs  with    grieving 
glance, 


140  CRADLE     SINGING. 

Herbs  she  in  twilight  culls  their  gall-draughts 

sweeten, 

Through  their  dull  nights  her  smiles,  like 
fire-flies,  dance. 

"She  shall  have  friends  on  high,  gone  home 

before  her, 

For  holier  hands  than  hers  in  mine  have  lain; 
And  friends  on  earth,  in  heart  of  hearts  who 

store  her, 

Helped  by  her  love  through  weariness  and 
pain. 

"And  these  will  weave  her  an  unfading  gar 
land, 

With  joys  unclustered,  as  of  old  the  bees 
Rifled  true  flowers  of  Sheban  queen  from  far 

land, 

And  left  the  false  untouched  in  scentless 
ease. 


CRADLE     SINGING.  141 

"  Give  me  thy  babe  !"     But  here  that  mother's 

weeping 

Hushed  the  grief-angel,  while  her  gaze  for 
lorn, 

Saw  on  the  lovely  face,  like  rose-bud  sleeping, 
The  fearful  shadow  of  the  crown  of  thorn. 

When  bloom-hung  boughs   of  joy  so  swiftly 

wither, 
How  build  her  babe  with  these  a  shielding- 

booth  ? 
Since  paths  of  grief  with  briars  are  strewn, 

how  thither 

Doom  the  bright  eyes  and  bounding  feet  of 
youth  ? 

Then,  with  bent  knee,  she  cried  :  "  Oh  Lord,  I 

rather 

Yield  her  to  Thee.     Thy  will  be  done,  not 
mine! 


142  CRADLE     SINGING. 

Be  Joy   or   Grief  her   Guide,    0   wisest  Fa 
ther  ! 

Choose  Thou  her  portion — only  make  her 
Thine  !" 


DIVINE    SEKVICE. 


IF  once  again  to  Thy  fair  Court 
Of  service,  Lord,  I  might  resort ; 
If  mingling  with  the  faithful  there, 
My  voice  went  up  in  song  and  prayer, 
And  I  could  kneel  at  chancel-rail — 
It  may  be  heart  and  hope  would  fail 
Less  often,  and  Thy  peace,  like  dew, 
Lie  ou  my  way  the  whole  week  through. 

0  for  a  faith  too  firm  to  peer 
For  cloud-born  joy  or  treasure  here, 
To  grieve  o'er  earth-reeds  broken  now, 
O'er  dream  of  youth  and  film-spun  vow- 


144  DIVINE     SERVICE. 

Though,  far  as  eye  of  sense  may  see, 
Not  one  green  hope  is  left  for  me, 
'Tis  Summer-land  for  loving  heart 
In  every  sojourn  where  Thou  art  ! 

Then  make  my  soul  Thy  Temple,  Lord  ! 
Come  and  drive  hence  the  chaffering  horde, 
Of  eager  thoughts  whose  murmurs  fill 
Porches  and  aisles  against  my  will. 
Thus,  if  no  more  within  Thy  Gate, 
My  feet  on  Thy  dear  service  wait, 
The  long  privation  will  be  slight 
With  Thee  for  Altar,  Priest,  and  Light ! 


DISSONANCE. 


THE  earth  is  full  of  discords,  for  men  deem 
Each  his  own  symbol  sweetest.    Selfish  clang, 
Whelms  holy  sounds  that  first  from  Beth 
lehem  rang. 

Firebells  break  harshly  on  melodious  dream, 
To   sufferer's    pillow  brought    by   Christmas 

theme, 
Carolled  in  depth  of  midnight.     Deafening 

bang 

Of  idol-service  drowns  the  fakeer's  pang 
Crushed  beneath  car-wheels,  while  none  heed 

his  scream. 
Ah   doleful    Tuning-Time !    our    ears    are 

stunned 

13 


146  DISSONANCE. 

With  crossing  clamors.   Would  our  eyes  might 

see 

The  Leader's  rod  uplifted,  and  his  fund 
Of  deep  soul-music  rise  like  snow  rills  sunned 
'"Neath  Polar  Summer.     So  should  Discord  be 
Flooded  in  harpings  from  the  Crystal  Sea  ! 


HEABT,    WELL    NIGH    HOME, 


THY  Life-cruise  is  ending, 

White  crest  of  each  wave 
With  swifter  rush  tending 

Home's  ramparts  to  lave. 
Then  fear  not  the  blending 

Of  cloud,  reef  and  foam — 

Heart,  well  nigh  home ! 

Not  with  soft  moon-light 

Now  glisten  thy  sails, 
They  are  seen  in  full  Noon-light, 

Soiled,  threshed  by  storm-flails  ; 
But  high  as  Love's  Boon-light 


148  HEAET,    WELL    NIGH    HOME. 

Storm  never  clomb  ! 
Heart,  well  nigh  home. 

Sea-wealth  worth  craving 

Soothed  not  thy  pride  : 
Dint  of  foes'  graving 

Paint  will  not  hide. 
But  for  Christ's  saving 

Help,  ne'er  hadst  thou  come 

Heart,  well  nigh  home. 

Heart,  therefore  lay  all 

Low  at  his  feet — • 
Tears  of  betrayal, 

Service  how  fleet ! 
Waiting  there  thine  array al 

Meet  for  Heaven's  Dome, 

Heart,  well  nigh  home  ! 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S    CHAIN. 


WHAT  is  our  Bible  but  a  golden  chain, 
With  promises  like  pendant  charms 

For  Faith  to  handle,  strong  to  vanquish  pain, 
Heal  grief  or  soothe  alarms  ? 

• 

Through  a  long  ancestry,  from  saint  to  saint 

The  noble  heir-loom  came, 
Never  by  treason-forfeit  or  attaint, 

Allied  with  shame. 

When  gaze  of  thoughtful  woman  first  is  bent 

On  antique  jewels,  will  she  say 
Their  worth  lies  wholly  in  the  brightness  lent 

To  her  own  beauty  ? — Nay 

13* 


150  THE     CHRISTIAN    S     CHAIN. 

Each  sapphire  splendor,  amethystine  gloorn, 

Kevives  some  olden  tale 
Of  warrior's  valor,  or  fond  maiden's  bloom, 

In  death  long  pale. 

Our  jewels  have  their  legends.     Some   have 
brought 

Mute  odors  from  the  Mount  of  Balm 
To  mourners  faint  with  unavailing  thought — 

From  one  beloved  psalm 
Come  tones  of  hope,  that  trusting  souls  rehearse, 

Leaving  their  lodge  of  clay — 
Prayer  for  renewal,  through  yon  pleaded  verse, 

Hath  won  its  way, 

The  Word  is  precious.     Well  our  own  deep 
need 

Hath  taught  its  value  ;  yet  we  love 
To  feel  it  link  us  with  the  Sacred  Seed, 

Long  housed  in  light  above. 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S    CHAIN.         151 

Fair  memories  lingering  on  from  age  to  ag<?, 

And  names  we  never  knew 
Like   vanished   rose-leaves,   haunt    the  .Holy 
Page 

With  fragrance  true. 

Whispers  of  blessing,  wherewith  martyrs  stirred 

Dank  air  of  catacomb  and  den  ! 
Songs  of  meek  praises,  from  apostles  heard, 

With  gyve-clank  mingling  then. 
These  hold  we  precious,  and    yet  far  more 
dear 

A  Saviour's  parting  prayers — 
No  solemn  utterance  of  bard  or  seer — • 

Hath  power  like  theirs. 

One  Family  in  Heaven  and  Earth.  His  hand 
Grasps  our  gem-laden  treasure  still, 

And  weakest  touches  from  His  own  frail  band 
Still  rouse  the  immortal  thrill. 


152        THE    CHRISTIAN'S    CHAIN. 

Friends  !  who  that  force  electric  once  have  felt, 

Round  it  more  closely  curl 
Your  clasp,  nor  let  the  scoff  corrosive  melt 

One  priceless  pearl. 


"LIKE  HIM,  FOE  WE  SHALL  SEE 
HIM  AS  HE  IS." 

1  JOHN,  chap.  8,  v.  $. 


WEARY  of  self  and  sin, 

"Pis  well  to  look  away 
From  inward  evil— outward  sin-1-— 

To  Christ's  Appearing-Day : 

For  when  He  shall  appear, 

My  cup  of  life  will  brim 
With  Love's  pure  wine,  uncloyed  by  Fear, 

And  I  shall  be  like  Him, 

Like  Him  !    My  thoughts  that  swoop 
Afar  with  falcon's  wing, 


154  "LIKE    HIM,"    ETC. 

Then  round  His  throne  will  meekly  group, 
And  there  glad  praises  sing. 

Like  Him  !    My  wayward  lips, 
Touched  by  Death's  cleansing  coal, 

Shall  veil  no  more,  in  half  eclipse, 
Deep  workings  of  the  soul. 

Like  Him!    No  wilful  prayer 

Will  soar  on  pinion  strong, 
But  to  enhance  my  heart's  despair, 

And  beat  at  Heaven's  gate  long. 

Like  Him  !    No  faultf  ul  deeds, 

To  fence  of  duty  blind, 
Rise  in  rank  growth — unsightly  weeds 

From  soil  of  godless  mind. 

Like  Him!    My  restless  will — 
No  longer  prone  to  carp — 


"LIKE    HIM,"    ETC.  155 

Shall  at  His  bidding  softly  thrill, 
As  thrills  an  air-moved  harp. 

While  Joy's  long  dormant  flower 

Blooms,  with  no  stain  to  dim 
Its  broad  unfolding,  from  the  hour 

When  I  shall  be  LIKE  HIM  ! 


LEGEND  OF  ST.  CHRISTOPHER. 


LONE  among  rocks  the  Giant  lay — 
His  might  of  soul  inert  as  they — 
Viewing  broad  billows  ebb  away. 

Yet  wave  and  rock,  from  boyhood's  hour, 
Thrilled  him  with  sense  of  kindred  power 
Like  wave  to  lash — like  sea-cliff  tower  ; 

And  if  around  Love's  sun-lit  isle 
Thought-currents  gleamed  in  joy  awhile, 
Soon  fell  the  spring-flood — ceased  the  smile. 

"  The  strong  sea  knows  his  path,"  he  said, 
"  Is  ruled  by  yon  calm  moon  ; 


ST.      CHRISTOPHER.  157 

But  the  surgings  of  my  soul,  unled, 

For  channels  importune ; 
I  tire  of  winter — snow  bespread- 
As  I  tire  of  summer  noon. 
Glad  sea  !  with  life-rule  traced  on  high — 
Glad  moon !  whose  light  may  wane,  not  die — 
Ye  have  your  task-work — none  have  I." 

Lifting  then  his  stalwart  length, 
In  full  majesty  of  strength, 

Forth  Phoros  fared, 
Craving,  for  the  arm  and  breast 
That  in  work  alone  found  rest — 
Service  of  Earth's  mightiest 

King,  with  power  unshared. 

Stately  palace  wins  his  eye, 

Stately  chief  his  prowess  viewing, 

Notes  how  in  the  brave  arms  lie 

Strength  and  skill  for  foes'  subduing, 
14 


158  LEGEND     OF 

While  the  child-heart  longs  to  serve, 
Nor  from  loyal  faith  will  swerve  ; 
Well  may  the  warrior-monarch  hail 

His  coming,  dream  of  foes  unhorsed, 
And  of  souls  threshed  out  from  their  fleshly 
mail, 

Like  grain  from  its  shell  in  autumn  forced, 
By  that  massive  human  flail. 

And  then  heart  of  Phoros  bounded 

With  gleeful  sense  of  gain  ; 
No  more  from  dull  inaction  hounded 

To  effort  wild  as  vain — 
Hope  scaled  the  hill-peak  viewed  so  long, 
And  toil  and  honor  crowned  the  strong. 

One  morn  there  came  a  herald,  sent 

With  speed  from  a  lonely  village,  where 
Marauders  in  the  midnight  went 
To  rifle  sleeping  shepherd's  tent ; 


ST.      CHRISTOPHER.  159 

Nor  might  their  vulture  talons  spare 
One  living  child,  one  matron  bent, 
One  old  man's  meek  white  hair. 

Listened  the  king,  with  a  wrathful  brow  : 
"  Satan  our  world  is  walking  now," 

Spake  one  of  his  valiant  men  ; 
And  the  royal  hand  at  that  word  of  bale 
Signed  the  cross,  and  his  cheek  grew  pale — 

But  Phoros  questioned  then : 

"  Whence  this  Satan,  noble  sire  ? 
I  had  deemed  thee  first  of  all 
Kings  who  this  world  keep  in  thrall — 
Canst  thou  fear  another's  ire  !" 

"  Ask  me  not,"  his  lord  replied, 

"  Learning  will  but  grieve  thee." 
"  Nay,"  the  stalwart  vassal  cried, 
"  Tell  me,  or  I  leave  thee." 


160  LEGEND    OF 

And  the  unwilling  Chieftain  pressed 
Fear  of  Satan's  power  confessed. 

Faded  then  his  vassal's  dream, 
Faded  all  his  fond  esteem, 
Only  to  the  Mightiest,  he 
Pledged  his  own  might  loyally. 
Sadly  grasping  sword  and  shield 
Moved  he  to  the  avenging  field  ; 
There  beneath  his  falchion  fell 
Mowed  like  grass,  the  Infidel — 
But  when  the  war-tide  ceased  to  roll, 
Forth  from  the  camp  Phoros  stole. 


Soon  in  a  lonely  mountain-glen 
The  Giant  found  the  Foe  of  men  ; 
Willingly  his  guileless  thought 
Bowed  before  a  strength  long  sought ; 


ST.    CHRISTOPHER.  161 

Slender  parley,  brief  soul  siege 
Needed  ere  he  hailed  his  Liege. 

And  meekly  he  followed  the  Prince  of  Air 
Through  wild- wood  pathways,  by  wild  brute's 

lair, 

Till  a  Cross  upreared  on  a  bleak  hill-side 
Imaged  the  love  of  the  Crucified  ; 

Aside  the  Demon  flew, 
Nor  paused  for  tangle,  brier  or  fosse, 
Till  far  from  Shadow  of  the  Cross, 

His  new-found  thrall  he  drew. 

"  Wherefore  this  haste  ?"  Phoros  spake  ; 
"  Plainer  yon  hill-path  than  briarful  brake." 

"  Little  boots  it,  friend,  to  know — 

Ivy-crown,  perchance,  I'd  weave  thee" — 
But  Phoros  cried — "  Not  so  ! 

Tell  me,  or  I  leave  thee  I" 
14* 


162  LEGEND    OF       '* 

"  Once  with  the  Being  sculptured  there 
Long  time  I  wrestled,  unaware 
What  inborn  strength  enshrouded  lay — 
What  dauntless  soul,  in  sheath  of  clay  ! 
At  last  he  fell.     In.  triumph  reigned 
My  star  awhile.     That  fall  was  feigned  : 
Soon  from  my  grasp  the  Christ  arose  ; 
And  still  we  meet  as  lifelong  foes — 
Here  let  the  hateful  memory  close." 

"  Greater  then  his  might  than  thine," 
Mused  Phoros — "Master  Mine  1" 

"  Heed  him  not,  my  vassal  true, 
I  have  realms  he  never  knew  ; 
There  long  years  of  bliss  await  thee, 
There  shall  smiles  of  pleasure  sate  thee, 
Warm  as  sunshine,  bright  as  dew." 

But  the  soul  he  deemed  enmeshed, 
As  with  wine  of  Life  refreshed, 


ST.    CHRIS  TOPHEK.  163 

Rose,  and  calmly  turned  away 

From  that  losel  in  affray, 

Toward  the  Prince  who  won  the  day. 


In  the  heart  of  silent  forest 
Knelt  an  aged  man  and  prayed, 

Pilgrims  when  their  need  was  sorest, 
Sought  for  help  that  home-like  glade. 

Him  Phoros  told — "  To  none 

But  the  strongest  Monarch  under  Sun 
Are  my  vows  of  service  paid. 

I  have  learned  through  wanderings  long, 

Christ  is  strongest  of  the  strong  ; 

But  His  Court  is  far  away. 

None  I  seek  the  road  can  say  ; 

All  its  waymarks  are  too  dim  ; 

Lead  me,  Father,  unto  Him." 


1G4  LEGEND     OP 

"  Not  with  eye  of  sense,  my  Child, 
Canst  thou  view  the  Undefiled  : 
Lordly  growth  and  might  of  limb 
Form  not  offerings  meet  for  Him. 
He  no  battle  service  needs  ; 
Dearer  to  His  heart  are  sighs, 
If  from  lowly  thoughts  they  rise, 
Than  archangels'  valiant  deeds. 
Turn  from  haunts  of  Earth  aside, 
Bow  in  prayer  thy  own  vain  pride  ; 
Through  long  fastings  watch  and  kneel, 
Till  thy  Lord  Himself  reveal." 

"  I  will  not  fast  to  lose 

Strength  by  my  Maker  given  ; 
I  can  not  pray  and  muse 

All  day,  on  far-off  Heaven. 
Long  lonely  hours  are  too  drear  a  ban  ; 
Bid  me   toil  for   this    Saviour,    thou   saintly 
man." 


ST.    CHRISTOPHER.  165 

"  Where  in  many  a  dangerous  eddy 

Snake-like,  yon  deep  river  rolls, 
Strength  of  thine,  perchance,  may  steady 

Failing  strength  of  feeble  souls. 
Thither  hasten,  hourly  aiding 

All  in  want  or  fear  who  cry, 
Shrink  not  then  from  midnight  wading 

Lift  thy  heart  to  Christ  on  high." 

Soon  from  river-bank  uprooting 

For  his  staff  tall  trunk  of  palm, 
Passed  he  his  life  in  suiting 
Cordial  help  to  weakling's  qualm — 
Guarded  by  his  fearless  footing, 

Frailest  pilgrim  crossed  in  calm. 
Christ  the  while,  on  earth  who  served, 
Watched,    well-pleased,    the    strength     so 

nerved 

Lowliest  task-work  to  fulfill, 
Faithful,  though  in  darkness  still. 


166  LEGEND    OF 


Watched  the  love,  that  spring-like  welled, 

Nor  from  tiny  cup  once  held, 

Deemed  the  poor  man's  thirst  all  quelled. 


One  night  the  flood  was  foaming  high, 
And  harsh  winds  told  of  tempest  nigh  ; 
While  Phoros  mused  with  many  a  sigh 
0  n  his  so  long-deferred  reward, 
On  craved-for  vision  of  His  Lord. 
For  heavy  and  dark  was  the  load  of  sin  ; 
And  wilder  the  warring  his  soul  within, 
Than  moan  and  shriek  of  the  swollen  Linn, 

Lo  !  a  faint,  half-whispered  cry 
Fell  on  his  ear  as  a  babe  were  nigh, 
And  the  Griant  marvelled — Had  he  slept  ? 
When  again  it  rose. — From  their  pallet  leapt 


ST.     CHKISTOPHEK.  167 

The  strong  limbs  swiftly  ;  his  staff  'is  ta'en 
And  forth  he  plunges  through  blinding  rain. 
Again  that  cry. — On  the  bank  a  child 
Watches  the  torrent,  seething  wild, 
"  Wilt  thou  bear  me  over,  Friend  ?"  it  cried  ; 
"  Mine  errand  lieth  on  yonder  side." 

Then  Phoros  raised  the  fair  young  fornij 
And  turned  his  face  unto  flood  and  storm; 
Scarce  hath  one  firm  foot  felt  the  wave, 
When  tempest-voices  loudlier  rave, 
And  the  child-burden  presseth  sore, 
Strong  though  his  arm,  ere  half- way  o'er. 

Higher  yet  the  storm-wave  surges, 
Tireless  yet  the  storm- wind  scourges, 
And  the  palm-staff,  tried  of  old, 
Finds  in  shifting  sand  no  hold, 
While  the  child's  arm,  round  him  curled, 
Weighs,  as  though  he  bare  a  world. 


168  LEGEND     OF 

Fails  the 'prowess  once  so  vaunted — 
Fails  the  cheer  till  now  undaunted — 
In  this  struggling  shall  he  sink  ? 
One  more  step,  for  need  is  urgent ! 
Yet  another — and  emergent 
Falls  he  hy  the  channel's  brink  ; 
Borrowing  for  his  fearful  burthen 
From  the  rough  bank,  cradle  earthen. 
Panting  faintly,  "  Child  thy  name  ! 
Fair  thou  art,  and  slight  of  frame  ; 
But  wayfarer  never  came 
Near  this  ford,  whose  clasp  could  twine 
Round  me  with  a  force  like  thine  !" 

Parted  then  the  dusk  night-cloud  ; 
Hushed  the  winds  their  quarrel  loud  ; 
But  on  turf  the  moon-beams  lay 
Not  with  half  so  pure  a  ray, 
As,  in  mingled  power  and  grace, 
Shines  around  that  Infant-Face, 


ST.     CHRIST  OP  HER.  169 

Made  the  rough  bank  holy  ground — 
Holy,  with  a  Saviour  found. 

Soon  to  Love's  most  loving  tone 
Changed  the  child's  appealing  moan. 
Planting,  at  its  word>  his  palm 
In  the  damp  earth,  buds  of  balm 
From  the  well-worn  staff  arose  ; 
And  sweeter  dates  than  Hermon  grows. 
Formed  the  feathery  palm-leaves  fair 
Coronal  for  trunk  so  bare  ? 
Feebly  could  their  flush  compare 
With  the  glad  thoughts  that  enring 
Heart  unhoping,  whilst  full  Spring 
Comes  with  coming  of  its  King  ! 

Touched,  transfigured  through  the  sight, 
Life  and  death  alike  grow  bright. 
Though  Heaven's  glory  lure  away — 

He  for  pilgrim's  help  can  stay  ; 
15 


170  LEGEND     OF 

Earth's  mad  storms  may  round  him  fly — 
Henceforth  he  can  dare  and  die. 

Ere  long  he  learned  how  Lycian  hordes 
Drenched  in  the  blood  of  saints  their  swords, 
And  thither  led  by  mvstic  cords, 
Phoros  sought  the  idoi-ianes 
Of  Samos,  red  with  martyr-stains. 
Thrice  happy  if  his  tones  of  cheer, 
Gladdening  erewhile  wayfarer's  ear, 
Might  now  with  hopes  enheartening  guide 
Those  before  whom,  in  heavier  tide, 
Flowed  the  Death-Torrent,  dark  and  wide. 

Kained  heathen  smitings  on  his  face  ? 
He  smiled  back  :  "  But  for  Jesus'  grace 
Well  would  mine  arm  avenge  each  blow  ; 
But  Christian  hearts  no  malice  know  !" 

Then  to  a  throne  of  judgment  near, 
The  martyr's  stalwart  friend  they  led  ; 


ST.      CHRISTOPHER.  171 

Their  puny  kingling  swooned  in  fear, 

And  cried,  "  Thy  name,  0  man  of  dread!" 
Answered  his  captive,  low  and  clear  : 

"Phoros,  Bearer — called  of  yore 
From  burthens  that  with  ease  I  bore  ; 
Till  carrying  One  than  all  Earth  fairer, 
I  learned  of  Him  a  nobler  aim, 
And  won  from  Him  my  nobler  name  : 
Now  in  His  martyrs'  love  a  sharer — 
Christopher — Of  Christ  the  Bearer." 

Storm  of  menace,  jeer  and  blows 
Kouiid  him  with  that  word  arose  : 
But  his  robe  of  faith  he  held 
Closer  while  the  heathen  yelled. 
Then  temptation's  summer-call 
Would  with  song  and  bloom  enthrall, 
Till,  subdued,  strong  heart  should  fall : — • 
Thong  or  threat,  or  floral  chain   t 


17?  ST.     CHRISTOPHER. 

Might  not  win  for  altars  vain 
From  his  palm  one  incense-grain. 

Kneeling  ere  the  headsman's  stroke 
Loosed  his  soul  from  fleshly  yoke, 
Christopher  the  silence  broke  : 
"  Saviour,  if  weak  pilgrims  tire 
Through  the  force  of  flood  and  fire, 
Earth-quake,  storm,  or  thunder-peal, 
Hear  Thou  !  when  the  tremblers  kneel, 
Thinking  on  my  dreary  case — 
Dreary,  till  Thy  Glorious  Face, 
Beamed  on  more  than  midnight  gloom. 
And  while,  trusting  in  Thy  grace, 
They  the  help  I  found  retrace, 
May  Thy  love  their  faith  illume, 
And  all  shadows,  dark  to  see, 
From  Thy  radiant  Presence  flee  !" 

NOTE. — This  legend,  evidently  allegorical,  has  been  called 
the  Pilgrim's  Progress  of  mediaeval  times,  and  was  very  pop 
ular  among  citizens  and  peasantry. 


THE  RAINBOW  ON  THE  KAIL  WAY. 


ON,  on,  through  swamp  and  tangle, 
With  brain-bewildering  jangle, 
Fierce  cry  and  fiercer  wrangle, 

The  Fire-Steed  flew  : 
Past  Cypress  veiled  in  mosses 
(Long  worn  for  greenwood  losses) 
That  over  shiny  fosses 

Dull  shadows  threw  : 
O'er  rice-marsh  dankly  seething 
Past  poison  vines  up-wreathing, 
From  loveliest  blossoms  breathing 

Most  fatal  dew — 
15* 


174      THE    KAI3TKOW    ON    THE    RAILWAY. 

Where  sparkle-boughs  shone  varnished 
O'er  pools  with  lilies  garnished, 
And  tiny  runnels,  tarnished 
Through  heaps  of  pine, 
High  boles  once  gaily  fringing, 
Then  bronzed  by  camp-fire's  singeing 
And  now  the  clear  waves  tinging 

With  tawny  wine. 
Past  wood-scenes  borne  thus  lightly 
Through  din  and  smoke  unsightly 
To  me  a  sense  came  brightly 

Of  Care  Divine. 

For,  spite  of  haste  and  whirling, 
Like  sound  of  maelstrom  swirling, 
Where  the  white  steam  rose  curling 

A  Sun-Bow  lay, 
Eich-hued  as  some  that  tarry, 
Where  beams  and  dew-drops  many, 
And  heaven's  bright  flashes  carry 


THE    EAINBOW     ON    THE  .RAILWAY.       175 

Through  cataract  spray : 
Full-arched  as  others,  glowing 
On  men  for  dear  life  rowing, 
When  summer  storms  are  going 

From  ocean-bay. 

Sign  of  God's  sure  befriending, 
Frail  heart  from  ill  defending, 
Thy  silent  lesson  blending 

With  that  fierce  din, 
Said  "  Thus,  in  scenes  of  squalor, 
Can  Faith,  with  cheery  valor, 
Turn  its  bright  prism  on  pallor 

Of  toil  and  sin  ; 
Thus  too,  our  God, — if  duly, 
Through  all  Earth's  noise  unruly, 
We  seek  and  serve  Him  truly, — 

Gives  peace  within." 


S  USPEN  SE. 


WORSE  ordeal  far  than  gloomiest  fate, 
That  life,  Avherein  the  sentence  "  Wait  !" 
Seems  from  each  hour  inalienate. 

When  vulture-fancies  scent  from  far 

A  coming  fight ;  and  sound  of  war 

Thrills  with  new  pangs  the  long-healed  scar  ; 

To  stand  in  day-dawn's  blissful  hush, 
Fearing,  ere  night,  the  winnowing  rush 
Of  tempest  wings  all  joy  may  crush. 

To  feel  the  heart  a  prisoner,  pent 
As  in  old  tower  where  sunlight  sent, 
Through  seven  high  lattices,  content. 


SUSPENSE.  177 

Content  soon  lost  in  doubt  and  fear ; 
When,  one  by  one,  each  lattice  clear 
Did  dim  and  all  opaque  appear. 

So  fade  youth's  hopes  and  visions — fade 

The  gentle  forms  by  love  arrayed 

In  light  which  noon  of  twilight  made. 

The  joys  that  sprang  when  life  began 

Evanish,  till  we  faintly  scan 

Day's  glimmer  through  one  narrow  span  ; 


And  waiting,  watch  the  dark  Death- Wall 
Come  nearer,  nearer ;  while  a  pall 
Of  terror  holds  the  heart  in  thrall. 


Nay,  captive,  nay  !     Unviewed  of  thee 
Beyond  that  Wall,  with  golden  key, 
One  at  whose  smile  all  shadows  flee,' 


178  SUSPENSE. 

Waits  till  thy  vision,  purged  from  sin, 
May  strength,  through  grief  s  anointing,  win 
To  bear  the  light  His  love  lets  in. 

When  from  Life's  of  ten- clouded  day 
The  last  dear  splendor  dies  away, 
Closing  thine  eyelids,  meekly  pray 

That  He  would  pierce  the  fold  of  sense 

With  warmth  from  Heaven,  whose  glow  intense 

Can  still  the  shiver  of  suspense. 

Thus  when  His  voice  at  length  is  heard 
Calling  to  freedom  long  deferr'd  ; 
Heart,  hope,  and  love  unsepulchred, 

Shall  sigh  no  more  in  chains  of  care — 
Shall  breathe  no  more  a  prisoner's  prayer, 
Sure  of  all  bliss— with  Jesus  there. 


THE   LESSON   OF    GIDEON. 

JUDGES,  chap,  viii.,  v.  1-7. 

A      PLEA      FOR       MISSIONS. 


To  our  homes,  lo  !   the  Champion  of  Israel 

draws  nigh,  . 

While  his  valiant  three  hundred  move  wearily 

by; 

And  rich  though  their  trophies,  their  number 

no  more, 
Than  a  gleaning  of  grapes  when  the  vintage  is 

o'er. 

And  slender  the  service  He  claims  at  our 
hands, 

For  the  few  who  thus  foray  in  far  border 
lands  : 


180         THE     LESSOR      OF      GIDEON. 

Rich  pnrple-liued  raiment,  soft  cushions  and 

pelf, 

Were   unmeet   for  His  chosen — unsought  by 
Hi  ID  self. 

We  dwell   with   our  people : — through  alien 

morass, 

Lone  defile.,  or  jungle,  in  silence  they  pass  ; 
Bright  soil  of  the  desert  their  sandals  may  burn, 
But  the  heart-glow  is  brighter — they  will  not 

return. 

From  the  "faint  yet  pursuing,"  withhold  we 

the  bread, 

Which  lacking,  they  fall  in  their  armor,  unfed : 
While  our  prayers  and  our  love  should  be  with 

them,  as  wine, 
When  all  that  is   cheering,  for   Christ,  they 

resign. 


THE     LESSOR      OF      GIDEON.          181 

Oh  shame  on  our  self-love  !  Through  inner 
most  room 

Of  each  silken  pavilion  floats  whisper  of  doom, 

Like  the  rustling  of  wings  ere  all  happiness 
flee, 

"Gifts  held  from  my  servants  are  held  back 
from  Me." 

Up,  friends  !  at  the  warning,  from  pillow  of 
rest  ! 

To  pile  for  your  Chief  and  His  chosen  our 
best ; 

Lest  leaving  those  brave  hearts  to  press  on  for 
lorn, 

With  briars,  when  He  cometh,  our  own  hearts 
be  torn. 

16 


KACHEL,  LADY  RUSSELL. 


i. 

"  Whatever  below  God  is  the  object  of  our  love,  will  at  some  time  or 
other  be  the  matter  of  our  sorrows." — LETTERS  OP  LADY  KUSSELL. 

HER  rose  of  love  unfolded,  bud  and  bloom 
Perfect  in  beauty,  while  the  Master's  look 
Watched  with  approval.    Then  from  garden- 
nook 
Of  home  His  hand  removed  it.     Was  there 

room 

In  the  close  leaves  for  canker  ?    Would  per 
fume 

Be  lost  in  world-born  vapors,  that  He  took 
The  rose  so  roughly,  and  with  wild  winds 

shook 
Buds  left  yet  lingering,  hedged  in  ivy  gloom  ? 


BACHEL,     LADY     BUSSJ3LL.  183 

Ah  !  bliss  of  Earth  is  but  a  plant  whose  seed, 
Perennial  in  Heaven's  tropic  soil,  doth  need* 
Yearly  renewal  in  our  chillier  clime. 
We  weep  o'er  flowers  removed  ere  winter's 

rime ; 

And  by  our  weeping  blinded,  fail  to  heed 
How  safe  their  crystal  shield  from  blasts  of 
Time! 

II. 

"  Has  the  prisoner  any  one  to  aid  him  in  taking  notes  f"  asked  the 
Judge.  "  My  wife  is  here,  my  lord,  to  do  it,"  said  the  accused. 

HISTOBY  OF  ENGLAND. 

She  can  not  stay  to  weep  while  voice  or  pen 
Yields  chance  to  aid  him.     Tears  now  fleck 
Her  bark's  clear  sunshine,  but  with  him  on 

deck 

They  will  seem  luminous  hereafter,  when 
Both  voice  and  pen  are  failures,  and  fierce  men 

*  Dr.  Livingston  discovered  a  species  of  cotton-plant  in 
the  interior  of  A  frica,  which  was  not  an  annual,  as  with  us, 
but,  once  sown,  continued  to  flourish  for  yeara. 


184  RACHEL,      LADY     RUSSKLL. 

Have  hailed  with  ready  zeal  a  tyrant's  beck; 

When  she,  the  lone  survivor  of  that  wreck, 
Peers  o'er  the  waste  for  seas  beyond  her  ken, 

Where  floats  in  peace  her  dear  lord's  caravel. 
Heart  of  true  woman  !  faithful  to  the  last, 

All  selfish  pangs  one  smile  of  love  can  quell — 
Not  till  that  smile  hath  vanished,  hurrying  fast, 

Can  after-tides  of  woe  her  spirit  cast 
On  shores  where  hoarse  gales  murmur  "Is  it 
well  ?" 

III. 

"I  •was  too  rich  in  possessions  while  I  possessed  hirn :  all  relish  now 
is  gone." — LETTERS  OF  LADY  RUSSELL. 

Her  heart,  resplendent  once  as  royal  hall 
Where  Joy  was  reigning,  views  him  now  de 
throned  ; 
While  the  soiled  blazonries  and  shields  he 

owned 

Bear,  in  debasement,  witness  to  his  fall. 
Grief,  the  new  monarch,  sits  for  coronal 


RACHEL,      LADY      RUSSELL.  185 

'Midst  dark-robed  peers,    and  scutcheons 
darker  toned, 

His  sad-voiced  champion  hath  a  challenge 

droned 
'Gainst  all  usurpers,  and  with  gauntlet-call, 

Waits  for  defiance,  where  no  thought  defies. 
In  hours  of  agony  alone  we  learn 

What  solemn  depth  our  heing  underlies, 
Though  every  wish  for  that  old  sovereign  yearn, 

Though  loyal  fancies  would  in  rapture  rise, 
Joy's  reign  of  sunlight  never  can  return. 


IV. 


"My  glass  runs  low.  The  world  does  not  want  me,  nor  I  want 
ttmt." — LADY  EUSSELL. 

"  I  should  have  been  afraid  of  such  a  woman  as  Lady  Eachel ;  it  would 
have  been  too  awful.  There  are  pieces  of  china  very  line  and  beautiful, 
but  never  intended  for  daily  use." — SYDNEY  SMITH. 


Yet  years  of  life  await  her.     Sorrow  kills 
In  ballads  only  or  antique  romance, 

And  the  close-linked  mail  of  circumstance 
16* 


186  KAC1IEL,     LADY     BUS  SELL. 

Arms  her  for  living,  with  firm  corslet  stills 
Each  mad  death-longing.  Mirth  of  childhood  fills 
The  home  made  silent.     Youth's  untroubled 

dance 

May  not  "he  fettered  by  her  tearful  glance  ; 
Nor  will  she  quail  anew  from  death-bed  ills, 
Braced  for  all  anguish,  having  known  the 

worst. 
And  sad  hearts  love  her,  since  their  bitter 

thirst 

Her  hand  from  living  well  will  meekly  slake. 
Let  mirthful  natures  deem  her  heart  in- 
hearsed, 

And  shrink  from  one  so  chastened.  Grod  will  take 
Her  closer  'neath  His  wing  whom  men  forsake. 

V. 

"  It  is  reasonable  to  believe  our  friends  find  that  rest  we  yet  but  hope 
for." — LADY  KUSSELL. 

Keen  Death  air  rises  in  the  ungenial  East, 
And  floats  o'er  graves  where  lie  our  holy  dead 


RACHEL,     LADY     RUSSELL.  187 

With,  feet  turned  eastward,  waiting  for  the 

Tread, 

That   startles  worldlings  from  their  wassail- 
feast 
To  fears,  like  lightning,  felt  when  looked  for 

least. 
But  dawn  brings  glory.     Christ  His  guests 

hath  led 

To  the  fair  chamber,Peace,  whose  pleasant  bed 
Fronteth  the  sunrise.      There,  no   rose  leaf 

creased, 
They  rest  till  morning.      Shall  an  acorn 

guess 

What  far  capacities  of  height  and  shade, 
Like  growth  unseen,  its  dull-hued  sides  com 
press  ? 
How  from  one  hour  of  joy  can  heart  o'er- 

weighed 

With  care,  the  brancaful  growth  of  blessedness 
Foretell,  on  southward  slope  of  Eden's  glade  ? 


PAH  TIN  a. 


Now  I  have  lost  whom  most  fondly  I  love, 
To-day's  wind  hath  tost  thee  afar,  my  own 

dove  ! 

And  still  to  my  vision  repeats  thy  dear  smile, 
In  gentlest  derision  —  "  'Tis  hut  for  awhile  ; 
How  foolish  our  weeping  !      Like  infants  at 


Kecoiling  and  peeping,  we  part  for  one  day." 

Ah  Love  !  through  each  parting,  too  brief  for 

a  tear, 
Wild.  May-Bes  are  darting,  winged  missiles  of 

fear, 


PARTING.  189 

That    hint,   as  they   hurtle,   how  venom   of 

asp 
May  be  sheltered  in  myrtle,  and  sting  ere  I 

clasp  ; 
How  often  veiled  dangers  which  Love  would 

avert, 
Unnoticed  by  strangers,  work  horror  and  hurt. 

"  I  fear  where  I  should  not."     Thy  voice,  too 

hath  said — 
"  Since   true  spirits  could  not  by  Death  be 

unwed 
On  dew-drops  if  Light  fall,  and  lift  one  on 

high, 
While  in  flower-leaf  till  nightfall  another  may 

lie; 
Both  upwards  are  fleeing — both  worship  one 

Sun, 
And  lapse  in   His  Being  when  earth-life  is 

done," 


190  PARTING. 

I  doubt  not  the  saying,  yet  daily  my  prayer 
Seeks  thy  Sun-Life's  delaying,  till  I  too  am 

there. 

If  angels  accost  thee,  respond  not,  mine  own  ! 
From  my  Nile,  had  I  lost  thee,  the  lotos  were 

gone; 
Whose  deep  root  holds  firmer  when  gales  prove 

its  power ; 
'Tis  therefore  I  murmur  to  miss  thee  an  hour. 


"EXCEPT  THE   LORD  BUILD  THE  HOUSE 
THEY  LABOR  IN  VAIN  THAT  BUILD  IT." 


MY  cottage  lay  in  ruins — tempest-torn, 

I  need  not  tell  you  how. 
Fierce  winds  the  fragile  walls  had  earthward 

borne, 

And  battered  each  green  bough. 
Enough.     I  must  repair  the  tenement, 

Elsewhere  I  could  not  go  ; 
And  pitying  friends  came  round  me,  with,  intent 
Their  counsel  to  bestow. 

First  Fancy  o'er  my  garden-plot  would  pore, 

With-promises  and  plan 
To  make  my  dwelling  firmer  than  before  : 

But  when  the  work  began, 


192     "EXCEPT  THE  LORD   BUILD,"   ETC. 

V 

Her  levers  failed  one  beam  or  plank  to  move, 

Fashioned  from  baseless  air ; 
And  her  most  choice  materials  did  but  prove 

Kaleidoscopic  ware. 

Then  Skill  showed  plainly  how,  with  hail  o'er- 
borne, 

The  slender  sides  and  roof 
Yielded  to  pressure,  yet,  less  roughly  worn, 

Had  been  tornado-proof. 

Opined,    with   stancheons    new — with   careful 
latch, 

And  ivy-bands  to  climb 
From  porch  to  gable,  linking  sill  with  thatch, 

The  House  might  last  my  time. 

Next,  Love  and  Patience  came  with  tender  smile, 

And  yet  more  tender  care ; — 
Sought  in  safe  order  stones  afresh  to  pile, 

Cementing  all  with  prayer. 


"EXCEPT  THE   LORD   BUILD,"  ETC.     193 

Storms  of  an  hour  some  finished  portions  felled, 

Oft,  when  the  work  looked  best — 
Still  toiled  they  on,  by  failures  unrepelled, 
With  beaver's  dauntless  breast. 

Faith  from  our  council  long  had  held  aloof- 
Then,  while  we  paused  in  fear, 

Unfolding  drawings  with  far  loftier  roof 
Than  our  poor  means  could  rear, 

She  cried,  "  Oh  waste  not  wealth  of  hand  or 

brain, 
This  ruined  home  to  gild, 

All  work  of  man's  devising  will  be  vain, 
Unless  Jehovah  build. 

"'Tis  now   when   strongest,   but  a  captive' 

cell ; 

Soon  must  thy  soul  depart, 
In  brighter  mansion  for  awhile  to  dwell, 

Not  built  through  mortal  art. 
17 


194     "EXCEPT  THE  LOED  BUILD,"  ETC. 

Yet  in  thine  absence,  from  the  mould  and  dust, 

Another  home  shall  spring  : 
There  will  thy  Guardian,  faithful  to  His  trust, 

The  ancient  tenant  bring. 

"Then  find  thy  solace  in  yon  hastening  hour, 

Let  Love  and  Patience  think 
That  Hill-born  breezes  come  with  holier  powei 

Through  each  unlovely  chink. 
And  though  thy  neighbor's  barns  with  brim 
ming  sheaves ' 

Of  health  and  hope  be  filled, 
Dwellthou  unmurmuring  beneath  broken  eaves, 

TiU  thy  Kedeemer  build  !" 


ONCE,  after  lengthened  musing, 
Thus  wrote  a  quaint  divine : 

How  marvellous  the  using 
Of  pins  on  raiment-  fine  ! 

In  size  and  worth  how  trifling  ! 

A  moment's  careless  boon — 
Yet  rough  winds  would  be  rifling 

Our  robes  without  them  soon. 

How  vast  their  glittering  levies  I 
Keplenished  year  by  year  ; 

Each  day,  through  seam  and  crevice  ; 
What  thousands  disappear  ! 


196          THOMAS    FULLER    ON    PINS. 

And  swiftly  we  replace  them, 

Unheeding  earlier  store, 
Gone  where  no  eye  can  trace  them — 

Alas  !  I  marvel  more 

At  men,  so  brave  and  sightly, 
Yet  in  their  Maker's  Hand 

Held  but  as  pins  that  slightly 
Secure  some  household  band. 

Brightly  their  busy  millions, 
Gleam  forth,  then  through  the  floor 

Of  this  world's  gay  pavilions 
Sink,  and  are  seen  no  more. 

Missed  for  how  brief  a  season  ! 

Mourned  by  a  sorrowing  few  ; 
Forgotten  soon  by  reason 

Of  mourners  buried  too. 


THOMAS    FULLEB    ON    PINS.  197 

No  vision  may  behold  them 
On  dark  path  while  they  go  ; 

No  human  grief  enfold  them 
Save  with  a  passing  show. 

Glad  thought !    Though  friends  have  van 
ished 

Like  pins  from  earthly  view, 
God  will  recall  His  banished, 
And  bid  them  shine  anew  1 
17* 


SECOND    CAUSES. 


WHEN  some  great  grief  descends 

On  the  prone  heart,  nor  lends 
A  loop-hole  through  which  light  may  peer, 

While  tiniest  stone,  once  kept 

Secure,  by  wise  adept, 
Had  all  reversed  and  ruin  were  now  near — 
We  feel  what  weights  of  woe  depend 
On  frailest  hair-line  that  a  breath  might 
rend. 

Might  rend,  but  may  not,  since 
A  Hand  too  firm  to  wince 
For  man's  wild  menace,  clasps  the  knot 


SECOND     CAUSES.  199 

Where  myriad  films  entwine, 

And  myriad  wills  combine 
To  body  forth.  His  will  who  shapes  our  lot : 
How  then  should  skill  or  tortuous  plans 
Elude  the  Look,  that  all  wierd  influence  scans? 

And  could  our  mole-eyes  trace 

Those  issues  to  their  place 
In  God's  true  foresight,  hushed  were  then 

All  murmurs.     Hearts  would  lie 

Low  at  His  feet,  and  cry, 
"  In  love  Thou  didst  it,  Loving  Lord  of  Men ! 
Our  quivering  lips  yet  kiss  Thy  rod — 
Our  worn  feet  press  no  paths,  by  Thee  un- 
trod." 

It  was  a  heathen  chief, 
Who  heard  thy  tale  of  grief, 
And  dashed  to  earth  in  ire  his  battle-blade, 


200  SECOND     CAUSES. 

With,  vow  :  "  Had  I  been  there — 
I,  with  my  own  Franks — ne'er 
Should  the  meek  Victim  on  that  cross  have 

staid  !" 

Clovis  would  Roman  spears  have  braved, 
To  leave  the  broad  world  and  himself  unsaved! 


THE    BUTTERFLY. 


in  the  neighborhood  of  Lake  Champlain,  a  beautiful  insect  was  so 
attracted  by  a  lady's  singing,  as  to  follow  her  for  gome  distance,  suffer 
itself  to  be  caught,  and  finally  die  in  her  hands. 


BUTTEKFLY  !  thy  wings  are  bright 
As  they  flutter  in  the  calm  sunlight, 
And  through  this  fair  Sylvan  scene, 
Waft  thee,  like  an  insect-queen, 
Born  her  royal  home  to  make 
Close  beside  the  lilied  lake, 
With  its  murmuring  waves  to  play, 
And  merrily  pass  her  life's  short  day. 

What  though  the  summer  time  be  brief, 
Thy  plumes  will  fade  before  the  leaf ; 


202  THE     BUTTERFLY. 

What  though  in  regions  far  from  here 
Thou  mightest  sport  'neath  skies  more  clear, 
Breathe  the  perfume  of  countless  roses, 
And  sip  the  dew  each  bud  uncloses — 
Would  it  be  a  more  joyous  lot 
Than  to  dwell  in  this  sequestered  spot, 
Watching  the  wavelets  kiss  the  shore — 
Flitting  in  sunshine  till  life  be  o'er. 

Sweet  are  the  songs  our  dear  one  sings — - 

Thou  hast  folded  thy  gorgeous  wings, 

And  sunk  in  delight,  on  her  arm  art  thou 

found, 

Fearing  to  lose  one  magic  sound. 
Where  didst  thou  learn  to  love  the  song, 
And  follow  the  minstrel's  steps  so  long  ? 
Hast  thou  listened  to  elfin  lays 
Sung  at  eve  in  the  moon's  pale  rays  ? 
Shaken  off  morning  sleep  to  mark 
Voice  of  linnet  or  carol  of  lark  ? 


THE     BUTTERFLY.  203 

Or  hath  the  swell  of  this  tiny  sea 
Wakened  thy  sense  of  melody  ? 

Ah  !  the  burst  of  that  noble  air 
Is  more  than  thy  fragile  frame  can  bear  : 
It  has  trembled  awhile  with  responsive  thrill 
To  each  plaintive  cadence,  each  lingering  trill, 
Till  in  mournful  pleasure,  delicious  pain, 
Thou  hast  sighed  out  thy  life  with  the  last 
refrain. 

Often  some  gay  saloon  has  rung 
With  glad  applause  as  the  lady  sung, 
While  a  flush  of  pleasure,  a  gathering  tear, 
Proved  the  accents  of  praise  sincere  ; 
But  never  till  now  hath  her  charmed  lay 
Stolen  the  listener's  life  away  1 

Well  would  it  be  if  the  wayward  heart 
In  thy  wild  devotion  had  no  part  1 


204  THE     BUTTERFLY. 

Well,  fair  insect,  if  none  save  thee 
Fronted  the  perils  of  ecstacy  ! 
Vain  idol-lovers  1  we  weave  our  bliss 
From  the  shining  films  of  a  world  like  thin, 
Where  the  sweetest  voice  and  the  dearest 

smile 

Only  are  ours  for  a  little  while. 
Soon  our  golden  image  shows  feet  of  clay, 
Our  gossamer  treasure  floats  far  away, 
And  then  we  long  to  lie  down  and  die — 
Sharing  thy  fate,  poor  butterfly  1 


SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  EEP.EOCHE. 


"  BLAMELESS  and  fearless/'    With  banner  all 

bright, 

Forth  to  far  battle  once  hurried  brave  knight, 
Held  it  unspotted  through  War's  gory  rush, 
As  a  white  peak  whence  paleth  the  long  vesper 

flush. 


"  Blameless  and  fearless"  our  ensign  shall  be, 
For  liegemen  of  Jesus  the  Sinless  are  we  ; 
No  guilt  on  the  conscience,  no  fear  in  the  soul 
May  palsy  their  might  whom  His  Love  hath 

made  whole. 

18 


206  SANS  PEUE  ET  SANS  KEPKOCHE. 

"  Blameless  and  fearless"  that  legend's  brave 

tone 
Need  not  ring  among  ranks  of  the  stalwart 

alone  ; 
A  child's  arm  through  hole  of  the  sea-dyke 

thrust  down 
Once  saved  from  their  death-doom  the  hosts  of 

a  town. 

"  Blameless  and  fearless."     If  legion  of  foes 
Bound  the  eremite  soul  in  Earth's  wilderness 

close, 

While  leaning  on  Jesus,  it  watcheth  all  fears> 
With  the  smile  of  an  infant  at  glancing  of 

spears. 

For  the  Blameless  hath  lifted  the  load  of  our 

blame — 
The  Fearless  through  Valley  of  Horrors  once 

came, 


SANS    PEUE    ET    SANS    BEPBOCHE.      207 

And  scattered  bright  germs  in  each  furrow  of 

night, 
For  those  who  have  loved  Him,  to  harvest  in 

Light. 


HOMELESSNESS. 


FORTH  among  strangers.  Ah !  unwelcome  word! 

Drear  penalty  incurred 
By  many  a  mourner,  since  the  first  frail  pair 
Saw  that  dear  Eden  Love  had  made  so  fair, 

Flame-barred  against  their  prayer  ; 
While  the  vast  expanse  they  were  free  to  range 

Looked  desolate  and  strange. 

Forth  among  strangers.    To  the  young  in  heart 

Tired  of  inactive  part, 

Change  seems  but  gladness — alien  scenes  arise, 
Clad  in  the  rosy  mist  of  morning  skies  ; 

When  inexperienced  eyes 
Turn  gaily  to  the  Future's  brightening  shore, 

And  grieve  for  home  no  more, 


H  O  MELES  SITES  S.  209 

But  when  Life's  glow  hath  faded,  and  the  soul 

Cares  less  for  shining  goal, 
Than  for  some  bosky  shelter  by  the  way, 
To  shield  for  dust- worn  eyes  the  glare  of  day, 

And  cheat  Care  of  his  prey  ; 
Change  loill  look  dark,  though  in  its  ebon  chest 

Grim-carven,  jewels  rest. 

Pleasant  the  parlor-brightness,  when  at  eve, 
Unwearying  fire-gnomes  weave 

Their  radiant  pictures,  ready  for  a  gaze 

Skilled  in  red  hieroglyphs.     More  bright  the 

rays, 
"Which  'neath  fond  eye-lids  blaze 

A  beacon-welcome,  unto  look  that  knows 
What  spell  that  kind  glance  throws. " 


But  sad  and  heartless  to  go  forth  alone, 

Silent  as  Theban  stone 
18* 


210  HO  MELESSNESS. 

Dragged  by  rude  Fellah  over  desert-sand, 
Left  undeciphered,  till  some  gentler  hand 

Half  trace  its  mystic  brand  : 
Then  from  brief  contact,  pass   with  uncon 
cern — 

This  task  is  hard  to  learn  ! 


Peace,  murmuring  spirit !    Did  thy  Lord  com 
plain 

Of  far  more  bitter  pain 
Borne  in  thy  service  ?     Changes  though  thou 

see, 
What  home  so  full  of  joy  can  ever  be, 

As  that  He  left  for  thee  ? 
While  thy  dull  nature,  unto  earth  akin, 
Shrinks  not  as  His  from  sin. 


He  chose  a  manger  for  His  infant  head — 
He  borrowed  his  last  bed. 


HOM  ELES  SNESS.  211 

Yet  hath  He  power  and  wisdom — Were  it  best, 
Proud  palace  at  His  beck  would  claim  thee guest, 

And  give  thee  longed-for  rest. 
Go  !  with  His  promise  cheer  each  painful  mile — 

And  wait  thy  Home,  awhile. 


"WE  KNOW  NOT  WHAT  WE  SHALL  BE." 


'  My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small, 

The  eye  of  faith  is  dim — 
But  'tis  enough  that  Christ  knows  all, 

And  I  shall  be  with  Him."  BAXTER. 


MY  day  of  dreariness  and  mist 

At  length,  they  tell  me,  nears  the  close — 
No  cloud  of  flame  and  amethyst 

A  radiance  o'er  its  ending  throws : 
I  shall  not  leave  the  plain  of  fight 
With  shield  undarkened,  sword  of  might, 
And  stainless  plume  of  conquest  dight. 

Slow-moving,  as  a  pilgrim  may, 

Too  faint  with  travel,  blind  with  tears, 

To  sorrow  o'er  his  disarray, 

Or  note  how  fast  the  home-light  wears, 


"WE     KNOW     NOT     WHAT,"     ETC.      213 

Through  weary  brain,  this  thought  alone 
Eings  with  a  restful  curfew-tone— 
Love  leads  me,  though  in  paths  unknown. 

Yet  long  unused,  from  lowland  roads 
To  gaze  on  Heaven,  I  can  not  scan 
Through  glass  of  power,  the  calm  abodes 
Whose  sapphires  blaze,  unseen  of  man  ; 
Counting  their  bulwarks,  pure  as  gold, 
Their  gem  foundations  manifold, — 
Enough  for  me  what  Christ  hath  told  ! 


Nor,  should  I  reach  them,  can  I  tell 

If  all  the  pleasures  longed  for  here, 
And  loved  ones  lost,  with  song's  rich  swell 
Shall  give  me  welcome,  guest  and  peer  : 
Or  if  my  soul  her  lamp  must  trim, 
The  Bridegroom  meet  in  night-paths  dim, 
And  find  her  bliss,  alone  with  Him. 


214        UWE     KNOW     NOT     WHAT,"     ETC. 

Hearts,  to  whose  love  no  toil  seems  hard, 
No  grief  o'erwhelming,  need  not  grope, 

As  gropes  my  faith,  so  long  debarred 

From  aught  save  clutch  of  earthward  slope  ; 

Unblenching  while  they  front  Heaven's  glow. 

Unto  my  Saviour's  feet  I  go — 

Me  it  sufficeth,  if  He  know  ! 

For  He  hath  promised,  man  nor  fiend 

Shall  from  His  holding  wrench  apart 
The  feeblest  who  on  Him  hath  leaned, 

And  stilled  heart-tremblings  near  His  heart. 
Soul,  through  long  years  Christ's  willing  thrall, 
His  liegemen  throng  yon  Palace-wall — 
Why  shrink  from  Death,  the  Seneschal  ? 


SORROW  AND  CONSOLATION. 


LONG  the  world  a  sunlit  screen  hath  woven, 
Sorrow's  realm  to  veil  in  twilight  dun ; 

As  a  mine  by  midnight  toilers  cloven, 
All  unnoticed  shuns  the  beaming  Sun. 

From  that  world's  gay  homes  her  dwellings 
vary; 

They  who  lease  them  breathe  an  altered  air  : 
Mirthful  beings  of  these  shades  are  wary, 

Deeming  naught  save  wailing  echoes  there. 

Thence  if  poet's  hand  the  lichens  gather, 
Singing  of  their  soft  grey  hues  the  while, 

Rarely  finds  he  listeners.     All  would  rather 
Hear  of  blossoms  whereon  noonbeams  smile. 


216       SORROW     AND     CONSOLATION. 

Silent  Kealm  of  shadows  uninviting  ! 

Freemen  of  thy  Cities  none  would  be, 
Yet  from  cressets  these  dull  pathways  lighting, 

Solace  falls  on  some  who  cannot  flee. 

SOITOW'S  world,  like  sister  worlds,  revolveth 
Calmly  through  far  space  on  balanced  poles  : 

And  auroral  light  around  them  solveth 
Life's  dark  symbols  to  reliant  souls. 

From  the  North  the  brilliant  message  coming 
Calls  to  every  mourner — "  Time  is  short, 

Care  not  for  chill  ice-breath,  joy  benumbing, 
While  thy  sails  are  set  for  golden  Port." 

And  from  Southern  Pole  a  quiet  whisper 
Saith  more  softly—"  'Tis  thy  Father's  will, 

Cannot  loving  heart  of  infant  lisper 
Trust  a  Father's  love  to  work  no  ill  ?" 


SOBKOW     AND     CONSOLATION.        217 

Sorrow's  seal  of  consolation  beareth 
Like  devices,  won  from  each  far  Pole  ; 

Sorrow's  'scutcheon  for  supporters  weareth 
These,  as  pillars  lifting  high  her  scroll. 

But  a  trained  eye  alone  can  read  them  : 
Who  the  heraldry  of  grief  will  scan, 

Till  his  fond  hopes  fall,  with  none  to  heed  them ; 
Till  he  moves,  a  lonely,  sorrowing  man  ? 

Then  its  legends  bring,  on  breath  of  blessing, 
Thoughts  to  gayer  spirits  full  of  gloom ; 

And  he  shrinks  not,  from  their  chill  addressing, 
Then,  like  one  who  stumbles  o'er  a  tomb. 

"  Time  is  short."     Glad  sound  for  heart  that 

grieveth  ; 

Brief  the  space,  ere  tears  of  earth  will  dry  I 
"'Tis  the  Will  of  God  :"  so  Faith  achieveth 

Noblest  deeds,  beneath  His  chastening  eye. 
19 


SPKING    VIOLETS. 


THRICE  welcome,  gentle  strangers  !     Say, 

What  tokens  do  ye  bring, 
From  southern  realms  where  flowers  are  gay, 

Sweet  violets  of  Spring  ? 

Queen  Summer's  heralds  !  have  ye  sped, 

Before  her  path  of  bloom, 
A  broidered  mantle  to  outspread, 

And  give  her  feet  soft  room  ? 

Or  do  your  purple  buds  have  birth, 
Ere  the  tyrant  Storm-breath  goes, 

To  braid  Hope's  tri-color  for  Earth, 
With  snow-drop  and  primrose  ? 


SPRING     VIOLETS.  219 

Or  are  your  tearful  blossoms  bent, 

With  such  a  weight  of  dew, 
For  human  dreams  of  gladness,  meant 

To  fall  and  fade  like  you  ? 

Or  come  you  not,  to  tell  us  how, 

A  meek  and  lowly  mind, 
Though  far  above  it  wild  winds  sough, 

True  blessedness  may  find. 

In  every  spot  where  God  says,  "  Live  !" 

Such  mind  from  dusty  ways 
And  from  untrodden  paths,  may  give 

Its  quiet  voice  of  praise  ? 

Oh  !  could  we  but  reflect,  like  you, 

Our  Father's  loving  smile — 
On  sun-bright  lawn  to  Him  be  true, 

And  true  in  dark  defile — 


220  SPRING     VIOLETS. 

Vain  were  the  wish,  to  mount  on  high 

With  eagle's  tireless  wing  ; 
For  Heaven  within  our  hearts  would  lie — 

Sweet  violets  of  Spring  ! 


DEAL  GENTLY  WITH  THY  SEBVANT, 
LOKD  ! 


GENTLY,   ah !    gently,   Lord !    for  Thou  art 

strong — 
Strong  with  Infinitude — and  I  am  frail ; 

0  let  my  want  avail ! 

Deal  with  me  gently  !  leave  me  not  among 
Sin's  wild  weird  shadows,  of  my  soul  ab 
horred — 

Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 

And  yet  I  ask  not  joy  should  be  allowed 
To  build  rare  sun-bows  o'er  my  saddened 
head, 

From  tears  I  long  have  shed  : 
19* 


222  DEAL     GENTLY,     LOED. 

Sunlight  would  dazzle  one  so  used  to  cloud 
And  sea-spray.  Give  but  footing  while  I  ford ! 
Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 

Life  hath  no  pain,  Thy  presence  will  not  cheer: 
But  Thy  felt  presence  fades  too  oft  in  pain  ; 
And  pale  hands  feebly  strain 
To  clasp  thy  robe,  when  only  cloud  seems 

near — 

Thy  cloud  of  judgment,  cold  as  death-fraught 
sword — 

Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 

For  in  Thy  frown  is  horror.    Fiends  withdraw 
When  Thou  art  smiling ;  but  with  endless  file 
Close  in  when  fades  Thy  smile. 
Oh  Shield  of  Israel  !  let  Thy  kindness  awe 
My  soul  from  sinning  ;  hear  my  sighs  long- 
poured — 

Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 


DEAL     GENTLY,     LOED.  223 

I  plead,  as  one  enthralled  in  labyrinth, 
Who  with  numb  fingers  scarce  can  hold  the  clue ; 

Whose  bleeding  feet  oft  rue 
The  unseen  pitfall,  or  the  jagged  plinth : — 
Take  Thou  my  hand,  and  in  it  keep  Faith's 
cord — 

Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 

I  know  Thy  ways  are  right,  but  I  am  blind, 
And  faint  with  year-long  groping.    One  sure 
touch 

Of  Thine,  would  heal  so  much 
Of  doubt  and  sorrow,  which  no  balsam  find 
Save  of  Thy  blending.     Then  relief  afford — 
Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 

Send  Peace  or  Patience  !     Patience  to  believe, 
Though  Peace  be  hidden,  till  Death's  opening 
hinge 

Bid  her  clear  rose-lamp  tinge 


224  DEAL     GENTLY,     LORD. 

The  Bridegroom's  vesture;  while  glad  angels 

weave 

Crowns  for  the  comers  to  His  festal  board — 
Gently,  ah  gently,  Lord  ! 


THE  LONELY  CHRISTMAS. 


I  DWELL  apart,  with  aged  heart, 

Though  blithe  young  forms  about  me 
Trace  out  no  plan  on  Pleasure's  chart, 

They  deem  complete  without  me. 
And  this  is  well.     In  lonely  shell 

Why  seek  love's  pearl  to  smother  ? 
When  through  this  world  its  gleam  may  tell 

Love's  brilliance  in  Another  ? 

Among  the  rest,  with  smile  and  jest, 

I  mingle,  differing  only 
In  silent  thoughts  of  some  who  blest 

My  life,  but  left  me  lonely. 
Their  loss,  through  years  of  longing  tears,    • 

Mine  upward  vision  blinded  ; 


226  THE     LONELY     CHRISTMAS 

I  looked  on  graves,  and  shrouds,  and  biers — 
So  now  I  am  not  minded. 

Ah,  no  !  through  each  fast- widening  breach 

In  home-ranks  Time  disbandeth, 
I  view  a  white-robed  army  reach 

The  Throne-Eoom  where  HE  standeth  ; 
Whose  Infant-Breath  thro'  world  of  death 

Sent  Life's  glad  current  bounding  ; 
Whose  Love-in-Death  to  mourners  saith, 

"  All  grief  My  love  is  rounding  !" 

And  festal  glee,  once  sad  to  me, 

This  Faith  in  Him  can  hallow ; 
While  hung  in  Christmas  boughs  I  see 

A  nest  of  Hopes  yet  callow — 
That  chirp  and  sing,  ere  long  to  spring 

And  waft,  on  full-grown  pinion, 
My  lonely  soul,  where  Love's  true  King 

Hath  opulent  dominion. 


SHADOWS  AND  SUNSHINE. 


OUT  of  the  Sunlight,  into  the  shade, 
Move  without  murmuring,  unaffrayed  ! 
He,  who  leads  thee  thither, 
Knows  what  flowers  would  wither 
Earliest  underneath  the  ray, 
Of  intensely  glorious  day. 
Not  from  ridges  hilly 
Eiseth  Hope's  white  lily ; 
Glades  where  runnels  wind  and  turn 
Oftenest  shelter  Faith's  low  fern  ; 
And  Love's  moss  hath  greener  tint 
Where  the  Day-beams  rarely  glint. 


228  SHADOWS     AND      SUNSHINE. 

Then,  since  gentle  Christian  graces 
Burgeon  best  in  shadowy  places ; 
Grieve  not,  if  thy  course  be  laid 
Out  of  the  sunlight — into  the  shade. 


Out  of  the  Shadow — into  the  Sun  ! 
Changes  the  call,  when  once  growth  is  won  ! 

And  no  fear,  lest  blossoms  wither, 

Clouils  the  angels'  hest  "  Come  hither." 
Faith  and  Hope  and  Love  blaze  soon 
All  unharmed  in  Heaven's  broad  noon, 

God's  own  glory  blending. 

There,  His  grace  unending 
Streams,  in  radiance  soft  as  dew, 
On  souls  that  tribulation  knew  ; 
These,  in  cave  and  dungeon's  night, 
Struggled,  ere  they  soared  to  light — 
Yet  a  little  space,  and  thou, 
Shivering  in  the  gloaming  now, 


SHADOWS     AND     SUNSHINE.          229 

Wilt  behold  their  martyr-faces, 
Share  their  peace  in  heavenly  places, 
And  pass  forever — with  Christ  made  one — 

Out  of  the  Shadow — into  the  Sun  ! 
20 


IN  THE  CITY  OF  KEFUGE. 


THE  blood  of  souls  is  on  my  hand — 
A  stain  no  grief  will  clear  away  ; 

My  days  from  peace  are  rightly  bann'd, 
Since,  traveling  on  the  world's  highway, 

Each  smouldering  fire  I  left  unfann'd, 
Each  reed  unlifted,  where  it  lay. 

I  can  recall  unholy  deeds 

And  wayward  musings — offerings  lame — 
The  look  that  shunn'd  a  brother's  needs — 

Love  of  man's  praising — fear  of  blame — 
And  careless  words,  like  poison-weeds 

Stifling  the  wishes  Faith  might  frame. 


IN     THE     CITY     OF     REFUGE.          231 

But  as  an  ocean-column  rears 
Its  crest  of  gloom,  and  seamen  scares, 

With  sullen  frown  and  murmurs  fierce, 

Thus  o'er  me,  darkening  dreams  and  prayers, 

Hangs  in  a  cloud  I  cannot  pierce, 
Mine  evil  done  at  unawares. 

Safe  though  my  own  poor  life  may  be, 
Enwalled  in  bulwarks  sure  and  strong  ; 

Thence  baffled  though  the  avenger  flee, 
Yet  thoughts  of  grief  must  rankle  long, 

While  in  his  grasp  of  doom  I  see 

Friends  left  unwarned  of  woe  and  wrong. 

Ah  blesse'd  lives  !  whence  float  afar 

The  seeds  of  blessing,  heaven-diffused — 

No  futile  pangs  your  memories  scar, 
For  time  and  treasure,  loans  unused  ; 

Foreshadowing  now  the  Final  Bar, 
And  sounds  of  wailing,  self-accused. 


232  IN     THE     CITY     OP     EBFUGE. 

High-Priest  and  Judge,  Thy  dying  breath 
Plead  for  unconscious  guilt.     Oh  see, 

How  souls  I  warned  not,  throng  to  death  : 
Dear  Lord,  thy  power  can  make  them  flee, 

While  yet  the  Avenger  lingereth, 

Back  to  their  Eefuge-home — to  Thee  ! 


ANOTHEK    GKIEF. 


AGAINST  my  heart  as  with  a  gauntlet  knocking, 

Another  Grief  is  here : 
I  know  the  sound,  and  spring  with  eager  locking 

To  keep  my  threshold  clear ; 
But  Grief  will  enter,  wild  refusal  mocking 

And  barrier-arm  of  fear. 

Oh  were  my  heart  an  Inn,  where  like  a  Palmer 
Grief  some  short  hours  would  stay, 

With  Eastern  odors  prove  a  Thought-embalmer, 
And  reckoning  more  than  pay, 

Through  one  sweet  grain  to  hold  me  purer, 
calmer, 

Left,  when  it  passed  away  ; 
20* 


234  ANOTHER     GKIEF. 

I  could  come  forth,  with  loyal  gaze  beholding 
Tokens  each  new  Grief  brings  ; 

Take  from  Love's  last  bright  lamp  the  silver 

moulding, 
Claimed  for  the  King  of  Kings  ; 

And  yet  believe  the  robe  of  serge  enfolding 
An  angel's  radiant  wings. 

But  now  as  in  a  vault  'neath  gray  church-altar, 

My  hurried  Sorrows  lie  ; 
While  I  have  learned  to  join  in  hymn  and  psalter, 

As  though  no  tombs  were  nigh  ; 
To  pace  the  aisles  with  feet  that  rarely  falter, 

And  passive,  tearless  eye. 

How  can  I  bear  another  Grief  to  marsha 
Down  to  that  place  of  fears  ? — 

Where  Griefs  not  dead,  but  lulled  in  stillness 

partial, 
(The  death-like  swoon  of  years 


ANOTHER     GEIEF.  235 

Dispelled  at  once  by  torch-gleam  shining  far) 

shall 
Move  on  their  quiet  biers — 

Move  on  their  biers,  and  rising,  throng  around 

me, 

Each  half-forgotten  ghost, 
Pale  with  the  thorn-band  whereof  Time  dis 
crowned  me, 
Asking,  in  silent  boast, 
"Art  thou  come  down  to  loosen  chains  that 

bound  me 
Among  this  vanquished  host  ?" 

Oh,  faithless  dreamer  !  not  with  message  cruel, 

But,  breathing  tenderness, 
Comes  every  Grief  to  thee, — G-od's  signet  jewel 

Each  wore,  its  work  to  bless — 
Nor,  though  with  anguish  seems  thy  life  a  duel, 

Wish  thou  one  courier  less  1 


236  ANOTHER     GRIEF. 

For  all  were  needed,  all  some  due  monition 

To  thee  in  love  address'd  ; 
And  then,  rejoicing  in  their  closed  mission, 

Lay,  white-robed,  down  to  rest, 
As  martyr  souls,  in  Apostolic  vision, 

Await  their  Lord's  behest. 

And  thou  at  last,  the  long  sad  lessoning  ended, 

Thy  Vault  of  Griefs  wilt  see 
Changed  to  a  Court,  by  shining  ranks  defended : 

And  their  All-Hail  shall  be 
The  angelic  Gloria  in  Excelsis,  blended 

With  peace — good- will  to  thee  ! 


OUK    BKOKEN    VINE. 


THROUGH  years  of  growth  we   twined,  with 
gentlest  care, 

All  tendrils  fair — 

Marking  then:  promise,  may-fly  plucked,  and 
worm 

From  leaf  and  germ — 

And  planted,  where  east  wind  were  earliest  felt 
A  close  larch-belt. 

Our  thoughts  went  onward  till,  with  Time's 
advance, 

Green  leaves  should  dance 
O'er  our  south  lattice,  and  sun-checkered  flow 

Of  vine-shade  throw — 


238  OTJK     BROKEN     VINE. 

Well  was  it  for  our  peace  we  could  not  see 
Things  soon  to  be  ! 

For  in  the  night-time  near  our  vine's  light  frame, 

Despoilers  came, 
And  low  in  dust  the  shielding  arbor  laid 

Our  toil  had  made  : 
From  sleep  secure  we  rose,  to  grieve  at  morn 

O'er  life- veins  torn  ; — 

To  strive  in  vain  from  ruin  to  uplift, 

With  anxious  thrift ; 
And  a  soft  purple  bloom  anew  to  gain 

For  clusters  slain. 

Not  for  our  old  age  now  will  strong  boughs 
shoot 

Their  wealth  of  fruit. 

Foiled  in  our  plannings,  shall  we  spend  in  tears 
These  blightful  years  ? 


OUK     BROKEN      VINE.  239 

Nay  !    One  yet  lives  whose  skill  decay  can  stop, 

With  deathless  prop, 

And  through  the  enclosure  where  our  vine  lies 
low, 

His  step  we  know. 

Oh  Hand  of  Love !   once  wounded,  lift  and 
prune 

Our  treasure  soon  ! 
And  from  dark  midnight  foes,  in  wait  to  steal, 

The  saved  fruit  seal ! 
To  Thee  !  0  Heart  of  Pity  !  we  resign 

Our  broken  Vine  ! 


UNCLOTHED. 


YIELD  up  now  the  kingly  purple,  long  the 
"birthright  of  thy  pride — 

View  the  eyes  that  sought  thy  greeting,  coldly 
droop  or  turn  aside — 

Let  the  presence,  once  so  regal,  lose  the  rose- 
lined  cloak  of  Wealth — 

From  the  slender  form  it  shielded,  lift  the  fair 
white  tunic,  Health. 


Next  unwind  the  broidered  girdle,  long  en 
circling  heart  and  frame, 

With  the  genial  warmth  of  Friendship — with 
the  royal  zone — Good  Name  ; 


TTNCL  OTHED.  241 

Then  unfasten  clasp  and  armlet,  and  strip  off 

yet  costlier  things  : 
From  thy  head'  Hope's  crown  of  beauty,  from 

thy  hand  Love's  golden  rings. 


Yet  more  penury  thou  needest :  from  thy  spirit 

take  the  cheer, 
That,  with  shield  of  Faith,  undaunted  faced 

the  armaments  of  Fear  ; 
Till  from  eye  fades  look  of  calmness,  till  from 

lip  fades  smile  of  trust — 
While  thy  friends  have  home  and  pleasaunce, 

let  thy  place  be  low  in  dust. 


But  remember  all  thus  taken  was  thy  willing- 
hearted  gift, 
When  before   thy   Saviour  kneeling,  thou  in 

Love's  first  glad  unthrift, 
21 


242  UNCLOTHED. 

Saidst,  "  Dear  Lord,  I  can  but  offer  all  I  have 

or  hope  to  be; 
Give  the  worldling  this  world's  treasure — craves 

my  spirit  none  but  Thee  !" 


And  each  joy  unclaimed  while  left  thee,  hung 

on  tenure  of  His  will : 
Hath  the  glow  of  first  love  faded  ? — pledge 

and  promise  bind  thee  still. 
Darest  thou  mourn  that  robes  and  relics  of  old 

idols  strew  the  sod  ? 
Darest  thou  murmur  through  thy  mourning — 

"  I  have  nothing  left  but  God  ?" 


CLOTHED    UPON. 


WHEN  the  cross,  assumed,  it  may  be,  lightly, 

On  weak  nature  leans  with  galling  weight  ; 

When   thy  heart-sins,  grieved  for   once  but 

slightly, 

Rise    dilating,    shrouding     e'en     Heaven's 
gate; 

Desert-days  recall  !     Thy  Lord  was  tempted, 
Left  a  target  for  the  Fiend  alone, 

Left  till  all  weird  stores  of  malice  emptied — 
Pomp  and  pageant  with  their  Prince  had 
flown. 


244  CLOTHED     UPON. 

Rarely  yet,  while  circled  jest  and  laughter, 
Felt  one  heart  the  influence  angels*  bring  : 

Silence  first  must  fall.  That  silence  after, 
Comes  caress  of  peace  from  radiant  wing. 

If  rough  hand  of  Pain  fair  limnings  cancel, 
From  thy  Hall  of  Life,  once  fresco-bright, 

Let  the  broad  blank  space  enclose  a  chancel ; 
Holy  laws  of  Love  around  it  write. 

Seems  thy  nature  worthless,  dark,  unable 
For  man's  good — God's  glory — aught  to  plan? 

There,  as  on  a  background  densely  sable, 
Grace  in  full  effulgence,  all  may  scan. 

Think,  though  bungler  palette  needs,  and  pencils 
Fashioned,  ere  he  paint,  by  faultless  rule  ; 

Shapes  false  contours  oft  with  fine  utensils, 
And  for  fault  and  failure  blames  his  tool — 

*  There  is  a  German  superstition  that  when  a  circle  of  friends 
become  silent,  an  angel  is  passing  among  them,  and  the  one  who  first 
breaks  silence,  has  been  touched  by  the  angel's  wing. 


CLOTHED     UP  OS.  245 

Yet  a  charred  wand,  near  true  Artist  lying, 
In  his  grasp  all  deft  an  outline  draws, 

Where,  forms  of  truth  at  once  descrying, 
Untaught  eye  must  give  its  prompt  applause. 

'Tis  thy  Master's  hand  each  color  chooses — 
Though  as  yet  no  gold  or  crimson  glow 

In  thy  life,  with  darker  shade,  He  fuses— 
Thou  his  full  designing  canst  not  know. 

Kude  the  sketch  may  seem,  yet  if,  when  finished 
Smirch  and  flaw  in  soft  haze  disappear  ; 

If  by  test  of  Heaven's  blaze  undiminished 
Lights  scarce  noted  gleam  from  centres  clear, 

Thou  wilt  own  how  things  whose  touch  abases, 

Though  like  charcoal  dust,  of  man  flung  by, 

May  God's  power,  in  long  undreamed  of  phases, 

As  with  diamond  splendor  glorify. 
21* 


A    GAKDEN    THOUGHT. 


WITH  fence  of  blossom,  leaf  and  briar, 
The  Summer  folds  from  view 

Yon  gleaming  river,  belfry  spire, 
And  half  the  hill-range  blue, 

Yielding  of  late,  from  dawn  to  night, 

My  winter- wearied  gaze  delight. 

Yet  soft  the  shade  in  leafy  niche, 

And  lovingly  a  scent 
From  briar  and  blossom  comes  to  witch 

With  fragrance,  till,  content, 
I  peer  not  through  my  woodland  screen 
To  note  the  haze  on  heights  serene. 


A     GABDEN     THOUGHT.  247 

And  if,  from  landscape  of  niy  life 
The  wintry  look  might  go — 
If  lawn  and  leaf,  with  sweetness  rife, 

Keplaced  the  year-long  snow — 
Then,  doubtless,  were  more  rarely  conn'd 
Far  splendors  of  the  Hills  beyond. 

BOUND  HILL,  MASS. 


HAVELOCK  AT  ALUMBAGH. 


SOLDIEE  !  along  whose  tropic  way 

Of  sun-glare,  lay 

Prayers,  strewn  like  blossoms  for  decay — 
No  lonely  leaf  or  petal  lost, 
Hereafter  those  now  trampled  most, 

In  depth  of  Hindoo  mould, 
Will  more  luxuriant  buds  unfold 

To  grace  the  gladsome  day, 
When  Earth's  dark  tribes,  no  longer  far  astray, 
To  Him  of  many  crowns  salaam  of  heart  shall 

Pay- 
Slowly  the  sea-winds  waft  along 
Praise  warm  and  strong: : 


HAVELOCK     AT     ALUMBAGH.         249 

But  pale  he  lies,  to  whom  belong 
A  nation's  thanks,  though  round  him  swell 
Echoes  from  home-launched  caravel. 
Ah,  tardy- winged  !  one  day 
Of  hastier  flight  through  storm  and  spray, 

And  the  brave  heart  had  known 
How  England's  heart  throbbed  fast  from  hut 

to  throne, 
With  love  and  pride  and  sorrow,  henceforth  all 

his  own. 


O'er  tent  and  tower  falls  noontide  glare 

Of  Indian  air  ; 

But  on  one  calm  brow  sheltered  there 
Never  shall  sunbeams  smite  again — 
Foot-march  or  toil  of  battle  pain. 

For  the  field- weary  head 
There  is  a  safe  pavilion  spread  : 

Prayers  for  his  dear  life,  o'er 


250         HAVELOCK     AT     ALUMBAGH. 

Its  threshold,  faltering,  found  him  passed  be 
fore, 

Found,  too,  their  own  true  meaning — life  for 
evermore  ! 

Nor  on  thy  last  puissant  deed — 

Babes,  mothers,  freed, 
While  Moslem  shapes  and  swords  recede, 
Alone  with  deepening  love  we  think — 
But  rather  with  thy  life-work  link 

Faith,  that  in  sleep-snatched  hour 
Won  at  the  Cross  its  shield  of  power — 

Pagoda,  whence  the  strain 
Of  prayer  went  up,  that  not  one  idol-fane 
With  spot  of  shade  might  fleck  the  Sun  of 
Christ's  broad  reign. 

;%    • 

Long  sank  thy  fame,  like  cereus-bloom 

In  bed  of  gloom, 
Its  fibres  for  one  hour's  perfume  : 


HAVELOCK     AT     ALUMBAGH.        251 

Then  with  rich  fragrance  filled  Earth's  room, 
And  lingers  deathless  round  thy  tomb. 

From  the  unobtrusive  root 
Only  at  midnight  flowers  might  shoot, 

And  careless  eyes  now  weep 
Because  thro'  years  imperill'd,  dim  with  sleep 
O'er  plant  so  precious,  they  no  watch  of  love 
could  keep. 

Yet,  as  in  ancient  Spanish  scene, 

Love  crowned  the  queen 
Whose  sweet  life  ebbed,  her  rank  unseen, — 
Thus,  Warrior  1  Christian  hearts  endow 
Thy  memory,  though  among  us  thou 

Wilt  never  move,  to  hear 
High  magnates'  greeting,  people's  cheer, 

Nor  voices,  dearer  far, 
Whose  silence  could  even  Khineland's  beauty 

mar; 

That  rose  o'er  war's  wild  clash,  as  o'er  cloud- 
seas  some  star. 


252        HAVELOCK     AT     ALUMBAGU. 

Thy  loyal  heart,  with  odorous  gum 

Of  fame,  would  come 
To  Jesus'  feet,  and  hush  the  hum 
Of  earthly-praise.     To  Him  we  leave 
Thy  bliss — our  anthem's  loudest  breve 
Lost  in  His  word,  "  Well  done  !" 
Unheeded,  in  His  joy  begun. 

Tried  Euler,  henceforth  dwell 
Not  in  a  treason-haunted  citadel- 
Rule  thou  o'er  ransomed  tribes  of  realms  where 
none  rebel  I 


EIVER    BURIAL. 


THEY  buried  their  Chief  in  the  river, 

Watching  the  dark  wave  close 
O'er  sins  of  its  first  fame-giver — 

Over  his  long-borne  woes. 

Oft,  on  my  own  strength  squandered, 

Tracing  out  pathways  drear, 
I  muse,  as  De  Soto  pondered 

On  red  foes  ambushed  near ; 

Till  weary  and  faint  with  the  fever, 

Breathed  in  from  a  swamp-like  world, 
With  search  for  Earth's  golden  lever, 

Through  tangles  where  snakes  lie  curled  ; 
22 


254  .BIVEB     BUEIAL. 

Back  to  my  couch  of  repenting, 

Friends  of  old  years  I  call ; 
Hope  !  Love  !  hear  my  heart's  relenting- 

Faitb. !  Courage  !  how  needed  all ! 

Under  this  midnight  of  sorrow, 
Lit  hy  Heaven's  starlight  clear, 

Your  hands  must  a  grave-place  borrow, 
And  straighten  my  Past  on  its  bier. 

Visions  of  joy  from  Youth's  quiver 
Hasting  o'er  valley  and  hill, 

Bury  ye  low  in  the  River, 
Of  God  my  Redeemer's  Will ! 

Fears  'neath  whose  mist  diurnal, 
Ever  my  chilled  thoughts  cower, 

Calm  be  their  sleep,  and  eternal, 
In  the  broad  flood  of  His  Power  1 


RIVER     BURIAL.  255 

Lower  than  these  shall  be  buried 

Self,  while  in  trance  it  lies — 
Lest  its  longings,  a  phalanx  serried, 

Wake  up,  with  revengeful  cries. 

So  perish  all  foes  that  grimly 

Pillow  of  frail  heart  haunt ! 
They  are  gone — yet  that  heart  still  dimly 

Quails,  conscious  of  deeper  want ; 

Till  the  Saviour,  strong  to  deliver, 

Bending  her  couch  above, 
Shall  bury  her  sins  in  a  river — 

The  Kiver  of  God's  free  Love  ! 


ICONOCLASM. 


THKOUGH  the  fair  Cathedral  of  thy  Home 

Have  Idol-breakers  rushed  ? 
Lie  saint,  and  jeweled  shrine,  and  dome, 

In  one  dark  ruin  crushed  ? 
Did  Sorrows,  in  malignant  swarm, 
At  once  from  gate  to  belfry  storm, 
And  hast  thou  stood  appalled  to  hear  their  hum, 
While  waiting  for  the  worst,  thyself  a  statue 
dumb  ? 

In  dreary  silence,  dost  thou  gaze 

On  wreck  of  all  things  dear, 
Feeling  familiar  notes  of  praise 

Grate  harshly  on  thine  ear  1 


ICONOCLASM.  257 

Doubting  if  ever  through  the  fane 
Can  incense-bearers  stream  again  ; 
Or  pleasant  pictures,  bright  with  human  love, 
Bear,  on  assumption-clouds,  thy  soul  toward 
heaven  above  ? 

Slight  are  the  causes,  frail,  unfeared, 

That  desolation  bring ; 
Shrines  through  a  life-time's  toil  upreared 

One  day  may  downward  fling  : 
And  still  the  shell  of  home  be  there, 
The  void  within — how  bleak  and  bare  ! 
When  nooks,  wherein  of  old  we  knelt  to  pray, 
Are  lost  for  ever — dashed  in  one  brief  hour 
away. 

And  yet,  if  Christ's  forgotten  Word, 

Though  while  from  missal  sung 
It  trembled  on  the  air  unheard, 

Now  teach  in  household  tongue  : 

22* 


258  1C  O  N  OCL  ASM. 

If  shattered  idols  yield  their  place 
To  Him,  whose  meek  unpictured  Face 
Smiles  on  us  ever — will  we  but  invoke 
His  aid,  His  presence — then  how  needful  each 
rough  stroke  ! 

"Tis  through  His  will  the  homes  we  love 

Are  rifled,  lest  they  hold 
Some  chapel  toward  whose  fair  alcove 

Thoughts  turn,  as  sheep  to  fold. 
There  is  a  safer,  holier  fane  ! 
Its  glory  no  assault  may  stain, 
Why  stand  we  gazing  here  on  vacant  niche, 

When  angels  show  the  Home,  beyond  imagin 
ing  rich  ? 


NEVER  PRAY  FOR  TRIALS. 


Blooms  thy  life  like  a  vale-born  lily, 
Shielded  from  storms  by  coppice  shade  ? 

Crave  not  the  coming  of  Frost-breath  chilly 
To  show  thee  strong  although  Summer  fade. 
Nor  sigh  for  change  ! 

Nor  sigh  for  change  !     In  gladness  bask — 
To  smile  and  bud  thy  joyful  task. 
It  is  not  hard  while  days  are  bright 

To  know  and  feel  the  Sunbeams  near  ; 
But  Faith,  till  now  unfaltering,  might 

Bend  with  the  blast,  were  darkness  here. 


260          NEVER     PEAT     FOR     TRIALS. 

Should  gardener's  hand  that  coppice  hew, 
And  give  wild  winds  of  trial  room, 

Thy  dying  roots  might  long  for  dew, 
Thy  leaves  for  roof  of  cedarn  gloom, 

And  white  bells  wilting,  calyx  torn, 

The  peace  once  undervalued  mourn. 

Soars  hope  of  thine  on  dove-like  pinion  ? 

And  sings  thy  heart  in  carol  sweet  ? 
Call  not  that  heart  an  idle  minion 

For  whom  rough  hours  of  pain  were  meet, 
Nor  sigh  for  change  ! 

For  change  is  coming.     Long  and  dark 
Thy  galley  toil  may  prove.     Some  mark 
Of  anguish  like  our  Lord's,  must  lie 

On  each  wan  forehead,  would  we  gain 
His  City's  freedom,  ere  we  die. 

And  if  as  yet  no  touch  of  pain 


NEVER     PRAY     FOR     TRIALS.  261 

Have  marred  thy  visage,  let  him  choose 
What  hour  He  pleases,  to  imprint 

The  signing  none  He  loves  may  lose — 
The  seal  unworn  by  face  of  flint  ! 

Pray  not  for  trials  !  meekly  range 

Through  mercies  left — nor  sigh  for  change  ! 


THE    STAELESS    CROWN. 


SHE  lay  upon  a  dying  bed, 

And  down  her  cheeks  sad  tears  were  fk> wing- 
Not  in  lament  for  youthful  head 

Beneath  the  turf  so  early  going. 
The  maiden  knew,  from  Jesus'  love 

No  mound  of  earth  her  soul  might  sever  ; 
And  in  His  presence  longed  to  prove 

Fulness  of  peace  forever. 

Yet  on  that  orb-like  joy  arose 

One  gloom-spot  half  the  radiance  marring  : 
No  rescued  soul  from  rank  of  foes 

Won  for  her  Lord,  her  crown  was  starring. 


THE     STARLESS     CROWN.  263 

She  had  not  toiled,  like  some  who  flee, 
To  use  brief  space  ere  curfew's  tolling ; 

And  o'er  her  mind  a  billowy  sea 
Of  late  remorse  came  rolling. 

Grief-laden  tale  !  through  heart  of  mine 

The  dead  girl's  shivered  lance  now  bearing 
To  rouse  the  thought — When  souls  resign 

Theu:  worn-out  mail,  for  home  preparing, 
Shall  I  through  Pearly  Gate  alone 

Pass  to  my  rest,  no  saved  one  leading  ; 
While  angels  marvel,  "  Are  there  none 

Lost  through  her  lukewarm  pleading  ?" 

I  cannot  tell.     A  wayside  word 

From  happier  lips,  may  fall  supinely 

In  good  soil,  to  spring  unheard, 

And  bloom  at  length  in  bliss  divinely  ; 

While  costly  cedars  oft  will  droop 
In  sunniest  nook  of  pleasaunce  planted, 


264  THE     STARLESS     CROWN. 

And  die,  though  cares  around  them  group, 
And  prayer  each  root  hath  haunted. 

Still,  from  my  being's  depth  there  cries 

One  wish,  o'er  all  dear  wishes  reigning — 
(Like  fibrous  gold  that  underlies 

All  earth-clods  with  its  own  clear  veining) 
To  form  my  Lord  but  one  fair  shaft, 

And  leave  it  in  His  saintly  quiver, 
Then  pass  away,  as  broken  haft 

Sinks  down  in  silent  river. 

Once  sated  with  that  glorious  spoil — 

That  seen  reward  thus  crowning  labor, 
Outweighing  all  Life's  battle- toil, 

Or  anguish  keen  as  thrust  of  sabre — 
A  SOUL  KEDEEMED  !     Complaint  must  die, 

Though  ills  like  thorns  on  cactus  thicken  ; 
In  dull  heart's  core  no  joy  could  lie, 

That  whisper  would  not  quicken. 


THE     STAKLESS     CKOWN.  265 

Wait — wait — too  eager  Will  !  and  learn 
O'er  seed  when  sown  'tis  vain  to  hover, 
And,  with  a  child's  impatience,  turn 

4 

The  loam  of  young  blade's  darksome  cover. 
Be  thou  content,  if  every  eve 

Some  work  of  Love,  thy  faith  adorning, 
Lie  buried  with  the  Sun,  and  leave 

Glad  issues  until  Morning  I 
23 


ANCHORED,    YET    WEARY 


ACTS  xxvii.  29. 


ANCHORED,  yet  weary,  and  wishing  for  day, 
For  a  glimpse  of  the  harbor  where  home-ban 
ners  play, 

For  the  brightness  lining  Death's  solemn  cloud, 
And  for  faith  to  enter,  by  fear  unbowed. 

Were  youth's  islets  sunny,  long  left  behind  ? 
Ah  !  tears  well  fast  while  we  call  to  mind 
How  dazzling  the  ripples  that  near  them  lay — 
We  are  anchored,  yet  weary,  and  wishing  for 
day. 


ANCHORED,     YET     WEAEY.  267 

Yet  fairer  the  sunlight  that  lies  before, 

On  the  cloud-veiled  Hills  our  Kedeemed  ex 
plore  : 

But  ere  timbrels  can  triumph,  hang  storm- 
winds  and  spray 

Kound  the  anchored,  yet  weary,  and  wishing 
for  day. 

Would  yon  Hills  seem  fair,  but  for  tempest's 

frown? 

With  the  Cross  uplifted,  who  hails  the  Crown? 
Not  in  smooth  seas  will  the  mariner  stay 
Anchored,  yet  weary,  and  wishing  for  day. 

Like  the  saint  on  whose  eyelash  hung  ever  a  tear, 
Though  his  smile  was  radiant  with  glory  near  ; 
Heaven's  joy  and  Earth's  gloom  interlacing 

alway, 
Leave  us  anchored,  yet  weary,  and  wishing  for 

day. 


PRAYER  OF  ONE  NO  LONGER 
PRAYED  FOR. 


PRAYERS  poured  forth  in  saintly  alms, 
Once  this  feeling  heart  made  stronger ; 

Gave  my  dead  joys  burial-balms : 
Now  they  soothe  no  longer. 

Lips  on  whose  dear  prayers  we  lean, 
Press  in  turn  the  chalice,  Sorrow  : 

Friends  who  wept  our  woes  yestreen, 
Weep  their  own  to-morrow. 

Quickly  though  that  cup  pass  on, 
Tarrieth  long  the  wormwood  essence  ; 

Gay  hearts  deem  its  memory  gone 
Ere  one  gall-taste  lessens. 


NO     LONGEB     PBAYED     FOE.         269 

In  the  earlier  hours  of  woe, 

All  who  loved  me  shared  my  grieving — 
Prayers,  with  tears  in  precious  flow, 

Half  my  loss  retrieving  ; 

While  my  fainting  soul  they  bore 
Near  to  Heaven  on  wings  of  praying, 

Made  her  feel,  through  crystal  door, 
Warmth  and  splendors  straying. 

Sweet,  while  undissolved  her  swoon, 

There  to  lie,  quiescent,  lowly  ! 
Came  the  awakening  all  too  soon  ; — 

Earthward  sinking  slowly, 

Sounds  of  tumult  broke  with  jar 
Eoughly  on  my  balmed  musing — 

Prayerful  echoes  died  afar, 
Mine  hi  new  grief  losing. 

23* 


270  PEAYEE     OF      ONE 

Then  the  storms  of  Earth  rushed  in, 
Whirled  and  howled  from  hearth  to  case 
ment — 

Fiery  cords  of  discipline 
Lashed  to  self-abasement. 

Now  for  interceding  word, 

That  like  Heaven-born  air  refreshes, 
Pants  my  soul,  as  pants  a  bird 

Beating  wiry<meshes. 

If  but  one  true  heart  alone 

Sought  the  solace  I  am  needing, 

Soon  were  hope  and  succor  won 
Pledged  to  that  fond  pleading. 

One  true  heart  ?     Ah  weary  breast  ! 

Crave  no  draught  from  goblet  earthen  ; 
He  whose  glance  can  grief  arrest 

Views  thy  veiled  burthen. 


NO    LONGER     PRAYED     FOR.  271 

Champion  who,  in  legends  hoar, 
Gazed  on  Holy  Cup  of  Sorrow, 

Through  his  after-quest  forbore 
Help  of  man  to  borrow. 

If  for  thee  the  San  Grail  shine, 

Drink  !  the  touch  of  Christ  rernaineth  : 
He  shall  find  its  bitter  wine 

Sweet,  with  Christ  who  reigneth. 


COUNT  LOUIS  OF  NASSAU. 

"  Count  Louis,  finding  that  the  day  was  lost,  and  his  array  all  cut  to 
pieces,  rallied  around  him  a  little  band  of  troopers,  among  whom  were 
his  brother  Count  Henry,  and  Duke  Christopher,  son  of  the  Elector  Pala 
tine,  and  together  they  made  a  final  and  desperate  charge.  It  was  the 
last  that  was  ever  seen  of  them  on  earth.  They  all  went  down  together 
in  the  inidst  of  the  fight,  and  were  never  heard  of  more. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  find  in  history  a  more  frank  and  loyal  character. 

All  who  knew  him  loved  him His  mother  always  addressed 

him  as  her  dearly  beloved,  her  heart's  cherished  Louis.  '  You  must 
come  soon  to  me,'  she  wrote  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  '  for  I  have  many 
matters  to  ask  your  advice  upon,  and  I  thank  you  beforehand  that  you 
have  loved  me  as  your  mother  all  the  days  of  your  life,  for  which  may 
God  Almighty  have  you  in  His  holy  keeping.' 

"  The  Prince  of  Orange,  meanwhile  passed  days  of  intense  anxiety, 
expecting  hourly  to  hear  from  his  brothers,  listening  to  dark  rumors 
which  he  refused  to  credit,  and  could  not  contradict,  and  writing  letters 
day  after  day,  long  after  the  eyes  which  should  have  read  the  friendly 
missives  were  closed."  RISE  OF  THE  DUTCH  REPUBLIC. 


ANOTHER  night  is  near, 

Yet  home  they  come  not.   Must  the  Kachael-cry 
Of  heart-pang,  hastening  down  from  earliest 

year, 
Find  sad  renewal  over  pall  and  bier 

Where  patriot  heroes  lie  ? 


COUNT     LOUIS     OF     NASSAU.          273 

Fields  have  been  lost  before. 
Let  but  one  precious  life  be  safe  as  then, 
And  free  hearts  will  not  grudge  their  jeweled 

store, 
Nor  free  hands  fail  their  Chiefs  fresh  path  to  bore 

Through  Alva's  close-ranked  men. 

Between  him  and  the  foe 
Some  river  doubtless  runs,  as  ran  erewhile 
The  Ems'  bright  wave.     His  mother  soon  shall 

know 
That  frank,  kind  voice,  more  dear  than  music's 

flow — 
Soon  hail  her  darling's  smile. 

A  thousand  perils  pass'd — 
And  all  look  shallow — then,  too  oft  we  find 
Their  depth  unfathomed.  She  has  looked  her  last 
On  those  clear  eyes — on  hands  that  wove  so  fast 

Thought  threads  of  warrior  mind. 


274          COUNT     LOUIS     OP     NASSAU. 

The  Silent  Prince  hath  seen 
All  summer  friends  from  tryst  and  council  fade  ; 
While  brothers'  love  and  truth  still  rose,  be 
tween 

His  heart  and  the  cold  world,  an  evergreen 
Of  belting  winter  shade. 

But  Love  can  never  lay 
Those  forms  so  cherished  in  cathedral  crypt, 
Nor  press  long  kisses  on  beloved  clay — 
That  clay  to  dust  will  moulder,  far  away 

By  band  of  spoilers  stripp'd. 

Not  safer  did  they  lie 

Where  old  Crusaders  planted  Syrian  sward  1* 
All  fields  are  holy  where  believers  die — 
Cross-overshadowed,  sunned  by  wakeful  Eye 

Of  Death's  triumphant  Lord. 

*  The  Ciimpo  Santo  of  Pisa,  was  covered  with  earth  brought  from 
Palestine  by  the  earlier  crusaders. 


COUNT     LOUIS      OF     NASSAU.          275 

Though  angels  have  not  borne 
Those  dear  ones  home,  as  once  from  Sinai's 

steep. 

They  a  dead  pilgrim  to  the  Khine  ere  morn 
Bare,  that  fond  sister's  touches  might  adorn 

And  sister-voices  weep  : 

Yet  to  an  Altar-Home 
The  Spirits  of  our  Martyrs  have  been  led  ; 
With  palm  and  robe  invested,  washed  from 

loam 
Of  worldly  strife,  and  'neath  celestial  Dome 

Wait,  with  the  kingly  Dead, 

For  all  who  pass  away 
While  scourge  and  smoke-wreath  twist  their 

chariot  line  ; 

For  all  whose  heart-scourge,  falling  but  to  flay, 
Gives  through  a  long  life  scarce  one  holiday — 

Poor  mother  !  such  was  thine  1 


I  WILL  GIVE  HIM  THE  MOKNING 
STAR. 

EEV.,  chap,  ii.,  v.  23. 


"  WHERE  may  happier  lot  be  seen 
Than  hath  crowned  my  soul's  fair  queen  ? 
Flowers  spring  up  where'er  she  strayeth— 
Only  sunshine  round  her  playeth  ; 
Yet  the  flowers  and  sunshine  free, 
Look  not  half  so  bright  as  she. 

"  Late,  she  raised  her  dreaming  *eyo 
To  a  sister-star  on  high  ; 
And  I  prayed,  with  murmur  low, 
'  Ah,  my  own  love,  gaze  not  so  I 
Glorious  though  yon  star  may  be, 
For  I  cannot  give  it  thee/  " 


THE     MOKNIKG     STAE.  277 

Thus,  oppressed  by  mournful  sense 
Of  his  proud  heart's  impotence, 
Once,  an  earthly  lover,  sighing, 
Weighed  the  love  he  deemed  undying, 
Found  it  infinite  in  will — 
Feeble  to  avert  one  ill. 

Well  may  higher  Love  rejoice 

In  the  Heavenly  Bridegroom's  voice  ; 

He,  a  universe  surveying, 

Far-off  worlds  His  sign  obeying, 

Saith  to  all  who  faithful  are — - 

"  I  will  give  the  Morning- Star  1" 

Star  of  Faith  !  serene  and  strong, 
Comrade  of  that  Angel  song, 
Whose  rich  harmony,  descending 
O'er  meek  swains  their  folds  defending, 

Silence  filled  with  joy,  and  night 

• 
With  a  rush  of  argent  light ; — 

24     * 


278  THE     MORNING     STAE. 

Lead  us,  as  thou  ledd'st  of  yore, 
Magian  from  his  midnight  lore — 
From  the  Crucible  of  Thought, 
Where  he  long  solution  sought 
Of  Life's  problems,  dark  and  lorn — 
To  the  Babe  in  Beth-le-hem  born  1 

Star  of  Christ !  unvalued  gift ! 
Gleaming  down  the  abysmal  rift 
Where  the  world's  vain  pomp  and  clamor 
Chain  us  with  resistless  glamor  ; 
Win  our  love  from  fame  and  pelf — 
From  the  veiled  idol — Self ! 

Cease  not  o'er  these  hearts  to  throw 
Radiant  leash,  Love's  path  to  show, 
Till  their  frail  and  fleshly  awning 
Rend,  and  thus  reveal  the  dawning 
Of  a  Day  no  night  can  mar- 
Heralded  by  Morning-Star ! 


BY  THE  BRINK  OF  THE  EIVEE.. 


THEY  laid  me  by  the  River's  brink 

Long,  very  long  ago, 
And  "  Jesus  will  not  let  you  sink, 

Be  fearless" — whispered  low. 

So  near  me  drew  the  Pilot,  Death, 

So  close  the  waters  came, 
It  seemed  on  each  ice-laden  breath 

Hung  heavily  my  name. 

And  once — it  was  a  wondrous  view— 
My  pain-worn  eyes  espied 

A  magnet  star-wreath,  strong  to  woo 
The  soul  to  yonder  side. 


280      BY    THE    BRINK    OF    THE    KIVEB. 

But  years  went  by,  and  still  unheard 
The  call  we  deemed  so  near, 

And  still,  thro'  secret  sign  deterred,  • 
The  Pilot  left  me  here. 

Left  me,  yet  in  the  busy  field 
Of  toil,  where  God  is  served, 

Not  to  go  forth  again,  and  wield 
The  sickle  whence*  I  swerved. 

Left  me,  in  silence  and  alone, 
To  muse  and  marvel,  why 

So  many  in  their  bloom  have  gone 

% 

While  I  unsummoned  lie. 

Kind  faces  that  my  wan  mouth  kiss'd, 
And  prayed  "  God  speed  her.  hom'e  1" 

Have  blended  with  the  Biver's  mist, 
Like  sun-bows  with  sea^foam. 


BY    THE    BEIXK     OF    THE    RIVEE.      281 

It  may  be,  holier  hearts  would  watch 
Till  through  yon  cloud- veil  dim 

Turrets  of  gold  shone  out,  and  catch 
The  songs  of  Seraphim. 

For  this  my  faith  is  far  too  weak, 

My  spirit-wings  are  soiled  ; 
They  cannot  cfeave  the  mist,  and  seek 

The  Light  within  it  coiled. 

Nor  dare  I  from  the  water's  edge 
Bright  thoughts,  like  lilies  glean  ; 

Too  swift  thy  roll,  too  rank  thy  sedge, 
0  stream  of  the  Unseen  ! 

Yet,  like  the  chiming  of  far  bells 
That  chime  from  viewless  shore, 
Sometimes  a  waft  of  music  swells 

Above  the  waves'  uproar. 
24* 


282        BY    THE    BRINK    OF    THE    RIVER. 

That  sound,  though,  seldom  heard,  hath 
dulled 

The  stirring  tunes  of  Earth, 
And  made  her  songs,  once  foldly  culled, 

Seem  now  of  slender  worth. 

Thus,  for  the  mandate  of  my  Prince, 

I  look  and  linger  still  ; 
Useless,  and  yet  unmurmuring,  since 

I  know  it  is  His  Will. 


L'EN  VOI. 


WHILE  softly  upon  Earth's  chill  breast 
The  quiet  snow-flakes  pour, 

Her  look,  "beneath  that  hueless  vest, 
Grows  drearier  than  before  ; 

Yet  the  fast-showering  crystals  wrap 

With  love  the  riches  of  her  lap  : 


And  when  long  hours  of  sunlight  come 
Shall  turf  and  woodland  pay 

With  lavish  blossoms — bees'  glad  hum — 
For  Winter's  white  array, 

That  fostered,  in  its  mantle  warm 

All  charms  of  fragrance,  hue  and  form. 


284  L'EKVOI. 

And  thus,  if  words  of  holy  cheer 

On  mourning  spirits  lie 
With  lifeless  weight,  while  home  looks  drear, 

And  Heaven  no  longer  nigh — • 
Covering,  as  with  a  cold  white  mask, 
Thoughts  that  for  vanished  love- warmth  ask. 

Yet  through  their  force,  the  winter  fled, 

Fresh  buds  of  joy  and  trust, 
And  vivid  green  of  praise,  may  spread 

Above  that  snow-bound  crust ; 
For  Christ  to  weariest  heart  can  bring 
Treasures  of  sunlight,  love  and  Spring. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


1764 
G876s 


Griggs 
Songs  for 
sorrowing, 


the 


DUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILI" 


000033258    5 


PS 

1764 

G876s 


